


The Time Traveler's Keeper

by Cecilia_skye



Category: Life Is Strange
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-01-18 18:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12393855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecilia_skye/pseuds/Cecilia_skye
Summary: Max travels back one last time to end her life but Nathan Prescott stops her.





	1. Escape

She stares at the blue butterfly perched atop Chloe’s mahogany casket. The last time she saw one, her blue-haired friend was alive and blackmailing a certain Prescott heir. Despite the bitter memory, Max’s face is still. Warren and Kate shoot glances at her, prepared for any outburst as the casket is lowered down to the ground. But all they could see on Max’s face is an eerie calm. When the butterfly decides to leave, she even smiles. She only sheds the tears when she approaches Joyce for a hug and even then the tears were what seem only as a response to those that streamed on Joyce’s cheeks.

Something snapped in her when she decided to let Chloe die. She did everything she possibly could for everyone within her perimeter, even rewinding back through simple conversations just so she could satisfy them with a good reply. But fate or destiny or whatthefuckever decided that Chloe had to die no matter what. And if she didn’t, Arcadia Bay will have to pay. And even though Chloe prodded her to choose her hometown over her, it was Max who made the final decision. She let her friend die.

It has been a week since the burial but Max Caulfield had yet to feel anything that resembled grief. Max’s friends expected her to do what normal grieving people would do. Cry, sleep, starve themselves, not take showers. They’ve mentally equipped themselves with kind and loving words in times of emotional breakdowns but it never came. Max Caulfield ate. Max Caulfield took showers. Max Caulfield went to classes. Max Caulfield was laughing at jokes. Max Caulfield even made jokes sometimes. Kate and Warren didn’t know what to make of it. If Max was faking it, she was faking it good. Or perhaps, this Chloe didn’t really mean much to Max. After all, it has been five years since they’ve seen each other. Why would Max grieve so much for a friend whom she’s never connected with for so long?

 

~~~

 

She was sitting on the bench by the lighthouse. She sees the tornado. She feels the wind and rain against her cheeks. She hears Chloe’s voice.

 “Don’t you dare forget about me.”

But the memories no longer stir anything in Max. There was no sadness. There was no regret. There was no happiness. She wonders where it has all gone. Did she leave it at the other timelines? Is there a Max out there who is crying right now? Or a Max out there in deep regret? She couldn’t decide what is better. To feel or not feel anything at all.

She understood one thing that afternoon. None of this matters anymore. None of it. Chloe is no longer here and she will have to live a life trying to recover from the hell that she’s been through. There will be no other person on this planet that will be able to understand her. And the prospect of living in that kind of world sounds lonely. She needs to leave that world.

She thought of how her decision would devastate her parents, Kate, Warren, and the rest of Blackwell. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to sympathize. She has used her powers to please other people, save them even, but this time she’s going to use it for herself. She has to save herself.

She heads back to her dorm and grabs the photo of the blue butterfly from one of her desk drawers. Returning would probably cause some freaky nature shit again but it doesn’t matter. If Chloe doesn’t die in that toilet, she would probably die in some other way. The thought used to have such a sting on Max Caulfield but right now she doesn't care. All she wants is an escape. She holds on to the photo for dear life and stares at it. She feels a pulse. She feels it beating a bit harder. Not a second later, her vision turns white.

The vandalized mirrors, linoleum floors, and blue cubicles surround her. She was back. She feels warmth under her nose and wipes the blood off with the back of her hand. She stands by the back and waits. Seconds later, she hears the door open and listens to Nathan Prescott's egotistical pep talk. She hears the door again. The voice of her friend pricks her heart like a needle.

She listens to Chloe and Nathan’s conversation for the nth time. And when she hears Chloe starting to panic, she knew it was her queue.

 

“Stop.”

 

Nathan turns and points the gun at Max’s direction.

 

“What the fu-“

 

Chloe bolts out of the door.

 

“Shit!” Nathan spits. His attention returns to Max.

 

 “You little—did you hear everything?”

 

“Yes”, Max’s calm tone shakes Nathan even more. She stares at his gun, waiting for his finger to pull the trigger.

 

“Fuck! Why the fuck were you hiding--how--”

 

And as Nathan continues his little tantrum, Max pulls her gaze from the gun and stares at the boy. She remembers meeting him at the parking lot. She remembers him sitting on the grass with the rest of the Vortex group. She remembers him and Victoria invading her seat and threatening her. She remembers his phone call to her. She remembers the pain in his voice when he apologized to her. This boy’s life is indeed hell, she thought. Nathan’s face was so twisted with panic that she recalled her indecisiveness at the lighthouse earlier and thought that perhaps it was better to not feel the pain at all.

 

He finally straightens up and points the gun to Max. “Listen here bitch. You better not tell anyone what happened here today or I will end you. My dad owns this place and—“

 

“Shit Nathan, just get on with it” Max steps forward. She feels the barrel of the gun against her chest. She was getting impatient.

 

“What?” Nathan’s eyes grew wide “You crazy bitch, take a step back! I’m warning you!”

 

“If you don’t shoot me now, I’ll tell everyone everything." Max sees the confusion in his eyes. "And I mean everything”  

 

Nathan's eyebrows meet “W-What do you mean everything?” 

 

“Nothing” She regrets hinting on it.

 

Nathan pulls her collar and backs her up the wall and points the gun at her neck.

 

“What do you mean everything?” his voice turned an octave lower

 

Shit. Why won’t this lunatic just shoot her, for the love of--

 

“I know about Rachel Amber, Kate Marsh, Mr. Jefferson and the dark room. I know all about it.” The words nonchalantly spill from Max’s mouth.

 

Nathan freezes. And after what feels like an eternity, he blinks and swallows a lump on his throat. Max closes her eyes, ready for the bullet. It never comes.

 

He puts the gun down and loosens his grip on her. The droop on his shoulders and shock on his eyes says it all. This boy knew he was fucked. She looks at his steely eyes, trying to figure what was going on in his head at that moment.

 

“What do you want?” he tries to sound stern but the crack in his voice betrays him. “What do you want?!”

 

Max’s impatience was getting the better of her. “Give me the gun” She reaches out for Nathan’s hand and it sends him to a sudden panic. He pulls his hand out of her reach, cursing at her. But Max takes a swipe at it again, this time successfully. The gun drops to the ground and she picks it up. When she turns to Nathan, his hands were up. Beads of sweat already streaming down his forehead. “P-please. Please calm down. Let’s talk about this”

 

Max smiles. Never did she imagine that Nathan Prescott would be at her mercy. “Go”

 

“What?” Nathan is dumbfounded.

 

“I said go”

 

He backs up slowly towards the door and reaches for the handle. Max turns her back on the door and positions the gun against her temple. Finally, she thought. She was hoping that Nathan would just shoot her but it seems that she’ll be doing that herself.

 

But she couldn’t pull the trigger.

 

Fear suddenly blooms in her chest. She starts to doubt.

 

Is this truly the only way?

 

Yes, yes it is. It doesn’t matter anymore. Just end it.

 

But my parents will be hurt. Kate and Warren, they’ll cry.

 

No. Max Caulfield, this is enough. It’s time for you to be free.

 

And it was in that moment that her emotions decide to come bubbling out of her chest, all the rage, the fear, and the pain. She couldn’t contain it. The tears burst from her eyes, flooding her face. She can’t keep on living like the pain doesn’t exist. It has to end. It just has to. This is the only way out.

Someone grabs her wrist and pulls it up so that the gun was pointing at the ceiling instead of her head. She feels a hand at the back of her neck and she is shoved against the bathroom wall. Again. The pressure on her wrists forces her to let go of the pistol.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” It was Nathan.

She had never hated Nathan so much. “Let me go!” and he did. But when Max tries to search for the gun, it was nowhere to be found. She sees Nathan tuck something behind him. “Give it back, Nathan.” He answers that with a glare.

I need to rewind, Max decides. She stands straight and lifts her hand in front of her. But Nathan reaches out, grabs her forearm and starts dragging her out of the toilet. She was too surprised to protest. And when she realizes he was taking her somewhere further, she tries to pull free from his grasp. She can't.

"Shit." she whispers to herself.

 

~~~

 

He opens the door to his room and throws Max on the sofa. She rubs the spot where Nathan held her, wondering if it would bruise. She didn't think Nathan Prescott would actually drag her all the way from the ladies room to his dormitory room. She had to avoid the stares of the people. Thank god no one she knew was around.

“Who are you?” Nathan leans on the wall opposite her, arms crossed. Max doesn’t answer. She scans the room. If it were the first time she was here, she would’ve been blown away by all his expensive belongings. Her eyes fall on the images of bondage on the Prescott heir's walls.

 

“Who the fuck are you and how do you know about—“ he hesitates, “about the dark room.”

 

He was shaking his right leg.  Max feels the agitation from where she was sitting. She eyes the boy from head to toe, this boy who she could never save in the other timelines. And suddenly, pity swells in her for this young Prescott. There was nothing she could do for him. He was too deep in bad shit even before she arrived in Blackwell.

But maybe, maybe she could do something for him here, in this timeline. She won’t be able to save him absolutely but perhaps she would be able to nudge him to the right direction. At least, before she ends it.

 

“I’ll tell you” Max finally replies “but only if you give me that gun”

 

“No way in hell”

 

Max stands up and heads for the door.

 

“Don’t you dare--“

 

“or what?” Max turns around, arms stretched.“You’ll kill me? Go ahead”

 

Nathan was biting his lip so hard, Max thought it would bleed. “Fine. I’ll give you the gun after you tell me”

 

She returns to the sofa. “My name is Max Caulfield. I know that Jefferson has this sick obsession of taking photos of drugged people. I know that it’s your job to drug them and bring them to the dark room. I know that he took you under his wing as an apprentice of some kind. I know that Rachel is dead from overdose. I know you drugged Kate too.”

Nathan’s face ashen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is my first fanfic so please forgive me for the mistakes. Hope you enjoy it!


	2. Pause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support! Your kind words are very encouraging. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well :)

He isn't sure what disturbs him more. The fact that someone knows about the Dark Room, the way that this someone has disclosed what she knows as if she was just talking about the weather, or that this someone spoke with eyes so lifeless that he almost felt pity for the suicidal bitch.

“How do you—“

“You should stop, Nathan Prescott”

“What?” Nathan bellows, nostrils flaring. "You're telling me what to do?"

“This thing you have with Mr. Jefferson has got to stop”

“No one tells me what to do!” The vein on his neck threatens to pop at any minute.

“If you don’t stop it now, you’ll end up dead.”

This puts him in a short stupor. He doesn't understand how she could sound so sure about what she just said.

“Mr. Jefferson is a dangerous man,” Max continues. “He won’t hesitate to kill if you if he needs to.”

“How do you know all this?” He is staring at the floor now, clenching his fists.

“I just do.”

“How?!” Max jumps from his sudden uproar. “Did someone tell you?”

She shakes her head, “no”.

“Did Mark tell you?” He thought he saw a flicker of disgust on the girl’s eyes before it returned to its lifeless state.

“No.”

“Then how?! You better tell me, you bitch, or else—“ He stops, realizing there was nothing he could threaten her with, not with a person who doesn't mind losing their life. Max grins a little at his realization and Nathan curses under his breath. The bitch's filthy mouth was sealed shut but he was not about to admit defeat. He decides to take a different approach.

He counts to ten in his mind and the tension in his shoulders subside. He crosses his arms and inhales. “Why were you going to shoot yourself?” the Prescott heir boldly inquires.

Silence.

“Hey, don’t you ignore—“

“Why do you even care?” The pixie hipster spits as she hugs herself and avoids Nathan's eyes.

“I don’t.”

Silence again.

Nathan nails is digging into his arms, his hands itching to strangle Max Caulfield. “I’m not giving you anything until you tell me”. He ends the statement with a smirk.

“Shit.” She raises her hands in surrender. “I just want the pain to stop, okay? There? Happy? Now give me the damn gun!”

He knew he promised he would give the pistol but he doesn't. He earns a hateful glare for it and to be honest it was better than having to gaze at the emptiness that were her eyes. He isn’t sure exactly why he doesn’t want to surrender the weapon. If this whore killed herself, then that would be the end of it. A hackish solution, sure, but a solution nonetheless. There would be no opportunities for blackmailing him. No one will be snitching about his dirty deeds to the police. His life would be a little more peaceful without this bitch around. Well, a little.

But he couldn’t bring himself to surrender the gun. For a minute, he makes himself believe that it was because it was too risky. If they found Max Caulfield’s corpse with his gun at her hands, that would lead to serious trouble.

Her confession does make him wonder about what she's been through. Was it something that happened to her or something that she's done? And if it was something she did, was it more serious than the things he’s been doing? Suddenly, he hates her guts. Why the fuck does this twee bitch have the balls to end her sad excuse of a life when he himself couldn’t? Oh no, he isn’t gonna let her go that easily.

When it becomes obvious to Max that he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, she stands up and heads for the door. His tight grasp on his arm stops her.

“You are not going to say a word about any of it, you hear?” his voice is so low it sends a chill down her spine.

She pulls her arm away from the boy. “Fuck you, Nathan Prescott,” and she storms out of his room.

~~~

"Max?"

"Hi Kate"

She lifts her hand to reveal the book she borrowed from her religious friend.

"Oh! Good timing. I needed that for some notes" She takes the book from Max.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure"

The room was dim. The blinds were shut. Max sees the piece of blue cloth hanging over the mirror and the rest of Kate's belongings in places they're not supposed to be. She stops herself from tidying up a little. Kate slides the book inside her backpack and takes a seat on her chair by her desk.

"So, uh , Max," Kate begins with that sweet voice of hers. "Did you want to talk about something?"

Max swallows, not exactly sure why she's here. She rubs her arm and walks slowly besides Kate's desk, the same spot where she told her she needed proof of what happened to her at the Vortex party instead of just running to the police. Her response disappointed Kate but she didn't want to get her hopes up just to be shut down by the reality of how the justice system works. She looks into her friend's weary eyes and the sight of it pricks her heart. She longs to pull her hand and tell her that that hurt that she is harboring is something that she fully comprehends. That she too, experienced the same horrendous thing and that she understands why she'd choose the path she chose in the other timeline.

If only it were that easy to say it.

Max chews on her thumb, contemplating if perhaps she should. After a brief pause, she lowers her hand and melancholy spreads throughout her features. She can't do it. It would be dreadful of her to burden her friend with such knowledge. The guilt from knowing that she is the only breathing soul who knows the facts will eat her alive when Max makes her exit. Even if she will truly have no fault in the matter, she will feel partly responsible. No, Max can't do that to her. She isn't that evil.

So why is she here exactly? Is she here to somehow stop her endearing friend from ending her life? Max scoffs at the thought. How hypocritical of her if that were the case.

"Max?" Kate's inquisitive eyes brings Max back from her thoughts.

She licks her lips and inhales. "Kate, I-" she swallows again- "I'm so sorry about the video."

Kate blinks and Max feels her friend's energy dropping. "Something happened to me. I know it. That isn't me, Max."

Max envelops her friend in an warm embrace. "I know you're hurting. It must be really tough."

Kate doesn't respond and Max feels her shoulder getting wet.

"I just want you to know-" she continues- "that you're not alone."

Kate's shoulders tremble. Max releases her friend.

"I'm here for you." She is disgusted by how the lie tumbles out so easily from her lips.

Kate wipes her tears and smiles. 

"Remember that it will pass. Everything is going to be alright".

Kate's smile widens and Max mentally pats herself on the back for doing it right for once. No bullshit advice. No offers of assistance. Just plain words that needed to be said and heard. Never mind the voice that persists on marring her small victory with the fact she was a big fucking liar, and therefore deserves to be called the shittiest friend in the universe.

"Thank you, Max."

Max returns the smile and walks towards the door. She turns the knob and pauses.

"Kate, I'm really grateful that you're my friend. Thank you for everything."

She sees traces of confusion in Kate's eyes.

~~~

"Max, get yer ass over here!"

She sees the science nerd leaning on his new car and she quickens her pace. He spreads his arms for a hug and this time, Max doesn't reject the gesture and dives right into it. She thinks Warren is taking his time but she allows it. Once he pulls away, she unearths a flash drive from her bag and hands it over.

"So did you get the chance to check out the movie booty on my flash drive?"

She replies with a yes and conveys how impressed she is with her friend's selection of films. It took no time for him to invite her cruising on his new car to see a movie together.

"But you seem distracted," he remarks.

Max recalls a time when her time-rewinding powers were new to her. She was hella confused and the first person she wanted to confide in was this brown-haired science-loving teenager. She eventually told him about it in the middle of an E6 tornado and he believed every bit of it. He, of course, proceeded to divulge that the storm was her fault. And even though that bit of information made her breath hitch, the memory makes her appreciate how Warren is so trustful of her.

So as a reward, she goes ahead and conjures another lie to another friend. "Not at all." She leans on the car. "How about this weekend?"

Warren's face lights up. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and begins searching for the schedule of movies while going on and on about how awesome the trip was going to be. Max grins at his giddiness.

She slides her eyes to the direction from where, in another timeline, Nathan appears out of nowhere to introduce himself and his psychotic behavior to the both of them. Back then, his vengefulness was what made her believe that he was behind everything that was going on. That belief was backed up not only by Kate's testimony but by hard evidence too. Everything led to him. The moment the truth unveiled itself, she felt like a fool. She winces when she remembers even asking the Prescott boy if he'd raped Rachel. What is wrong with her? Asking people if they've raped somebody.

Warren raises his phone to Max's face and points to the screen. "How about this one?"

"Sure! Looks good," she answers with an enthusiasm that seemed convincing enough.

"Alright! Let's meet here at eight on Saturday then?"

"Okay." She stands up and faces Warren. "By the way, I just wanted to thank you for everything, Warren. You were a big help."

Warren cocks his head to one side. "What are you talking about, Max? What have I helped you with?"

Max chuckles. "Oh, nothing important. Just... You know, thank you."

She turns her back on the boy and walks back to the dormitory.

"See you this weekend!" She hears from a distance.

~~~

Max's energy is drained from all the talking and lying and pretending. Her last lie was a text message to her parents telling them that she was fine. She followed it with a heartfelt thank you that hopefully, doesn't provoke her parents to investigate about the unusual conduct. She now moves on to a more important matter. How is she going to do it? She failed utterly with her one and only plan and she feels guilty that she relied on Nathan to do it for her. It wasn't fair of her to get him involved. 

It was cold out in the courtyard in the middle of the night. She was sitting on one of the benches, scanning the forest nearby. No one was around except for the fireflies and some squirrels, running about by the bushes. For some reason, despite the exhaustion, a feeling of peace has shrouded her. The truth is there no one for her to save anymore, no one left to worry about. The reality of it was liberating. She does not remember the last time she felt this light. She was ready and eager to walk out of this miserable life.

Minutes passed by and Max cannot decide on how she would do it. She gives up on thinking of a new plan and ends up going with her original plan. The guilt she felt for Nathan earlier has vanished and she chooses not to give a fuck about what happens to him afterwards. He probably deserves it. She hopes he does. She rummages through her bag for the photo of a blue butterfly. It takes her a while but she pulls it out of the bag, only to be greeted by the wrong photo. She realizes something. She never took a shot of the blue butterfly at the ladies room. She doesn't have it. 

“What the fuck, Caulfield!”

She almost snaps her neck when she turns her head to look at who had interrupted her. “What- you again?!”

Nathan grabs her wrist to take a look at what she was holding.

“Let go of me!” Max cries as she attempts to yank her hand from the intruder.

“Shit, I thought—shit. It’s just a stupid photo!” He rests one hand on his waist and the other rakes through his hair. “Fuck, Max. What the hell?”

There is a hint of relief in his voice. Why was he relieved? And why was he here? In his white shirt and grey cardigan and blue PJs and bed slippers? The sight made Max chuckle a bit.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just—nothing.” He rubs his neck and directs his attention to a random tree.

“Okay.”

Max's disinterest in the matter annoyed him enough to talk. “I saw you from the window, okay? I saw you sitting here for hours and when you took something out of your bag, I thought—,“ he sighs.

Max's eyebrows creased. When it dawned on her as to why the rich kid was out in his PJS in the middle of the night, out of breath, stopping her from whatever he thought she was about to do, her eyes bulged.

The young Prescott catches on her expression. “No, I wasn’t—It’s just—Don’t you dare get the wrong idea.”

Max pretends to believe that the red on his cheeks were because of how chilly it is at one in the morning. “Okay, I won’t.” She turns her back to him and looks at the photo, sighing of disappointment. She had to think of something else. She suddenly remembers Kate and thought perhaps that how she did it was her ticket to freedom. It was easy enough to do it tonight. All she had to do was--

Her ears pick up a faint sound of fidgeting in the background. Max turns around and is surprised to see that he was still there.

“Uh-“ her eyes darting back and forth- “Look, I’m not going to tell anyone, okay? And I’m not going to bother you anymore about the gun or whatever.”

“So you’re not going to shoot yourself anymore?” 

“What?” Blood rush into her cheeks.

Nathan sits beside her. “I don’t know what you’re going through but I don’t think you should, you know, end it.”

Max slouches, eyes on the floor. “You’re right. You don’t know what I’m going through. So fuck off”. She sees the bewilderment on his face from the animosity of her reply. She knows it might tick Nathan off but she is getting impatient and she just wants him to leave.

“Fuck, Max, I’m just trying to—“ His leg starts to shake.

Max is confounded by what was happening right now. Don't do it? Just trying to what? What is wrong with the Blackwell King? You're supposed to hurt Max, shoot her even, not... persuade her to keep living. She recalls how Nathan venomously cried how no one tells him what to do. She is tempted to mimic it and spit it back to his face. 

When the minutes went by without one of them uttering a word, Nathan stands up, presumably wanting to get out of the cold and return to the warmth of his dorm room. Max's relief is cut short when he sits down again. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Fine.” Max says in an exasperated tone. “I won’t do anything tonight.”

She stands up and Nathan follows, not saying a word. He follows her to her dorm room.

“You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Just making sure you don’t do anything stupid, bitch.”

She shuts the door between Nathan and her and tries to make sense of what just happened.


	3. Alive

She sees the dust dancing in the sunlight that streams through her windows. She reaches out in an attempt to feel the particles on her skin. She closes her eyes to amplify the chirps of the birds making their way from branch to branch, some even perching on her windowsill. She can't believe she is still breathing. She can't believe that Nathan Prescott stopped her last night. _This is a weird timeline_ , she thought.

She hasn't left her bed today. The gold in the sunlight suggested that it was very late in the morning and she has officially skipped a few of her classes. Her eyes glazed over as she contemplates on what she should do today.

Last night, after Nathan begrudgingly escorted her back to her room, in an effort to enter the world of slumber, she found herself thinking of Chloe. Her voice echoed in her head. Before she knew it, her eyes started leaking. She tried to stop the tears but it just won't. It ached to see and hear her friend again, full of life. Once again, all the guilt comes rising up from the bottom of her gut and there is nothing she could do but flood her pillow with the tears.

 

Despite the grueling way her night ended, she feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders this morning. She couldn't cry at Chloe's funeral. She wanted to so much to let go of all the emotions and move on but for some reason, she couldn't.  What a relief it was for the young brunette when her body finally allowed her to release it. Her eyes are sore and her head is throbbing but her soul was as calm as the ocean on a summer day.  So much so that she almost changed her mind about making her exit.

Max convinces herself that she shouldn't fool herself into thinking that this peace was going to last. She still needs to go. Perhaps that was even a part of why she feels at peace right now, the knowledge that she is almost where she wants to be. Nowhere on this goddamn planet.

But a part of her was determined to make the most of this gift. She gives in and decides to not blemish this rare occurrence with thoughts of death. Let this morning be hers. She feels a smile creep on her lips. _Yes, let this morning be hers._

She sits upright and the throbbing in her head sends her vision spinning for a second. She rests her head on her palm to steady herself. In celebration of her somewhat positive state today, she decides to not show up on any of her classes today. She doesn't want to see anyone who would remind her of the other timeline. She doesn't want to see a depressed Kate. She doesn't want to mingle with an energetic Warren. She doesn't want to deal with an unsuspecting Chloe. And, most importantly, she doesn't want to see the devil in the form of a certain photography teacher.

Suddenly, an idea takes hold of her. She pulls her duffel bag from her closet and starts packing some clothes, a mat, a one piece swimwear, a towel, and a random book from her shelf. She is going to enjoy Arcadia Bay's beach today.

 

~~~

 

Nathan is staring out the window. Ms. Grant usually reprimands her students for not paying attention but she makes the exception for the young Prescott. It was a better alternative than having a desk thrown at you. She leaves the boy to his thoughts.

He is thinking about Max Caulfield. He wants to slap himself for stopping her yesterday. Twice! Granted, the second was a false alarm, but he ran outside in his PJs, almost tripping on the stairs, to thwart her efforts anyway. Why the fuck was he stopping the bitch from meeting her maker?

He doesn't want to admit it, but ever since Max revealed she knew his deepest, darkest secret, he has been plagued with fear. He would walk down the hallway, that morning eyeing everyone he encounters with a suspicious gaze, wondering if they knew. People avoided him more than usual and his chest puffed a little at that. _Hell yeah! tremble at the presence of Nathan fucking Presott, bitches._

Even with that small boost of deranged confidence, thoughts of worry still filled his head. Was the girl going to rat him out? Or has she already?  How did she even learn about all of it? Mark is usually very careful. _Shit, was it Kate Marsh?_ Did Kate actually remember what happened? Wait. He did recall Kate Marsh being friends with this girl from Vic's photography class. Come to think she did mention that the girl was a skinny hipster covered in freckles. Fuck. So that's what's happening then? Kate Marsh told Max and now Max is going to blackmail him about it. That whore is going to get what's coming to her. Doesn't she know that the Prescotts own this town? She better shut her trap or else--

"or else, what? Kill me? Go ahead," her voice rang in his head.

He finds himself thinking about why the girl wanted to die. He couldn't make sense of it. Could the reason be related to the Dark Room? Did Mark actually got her to the Dark Room before? He has never seen a binder with her name it though. And besides, the drugging was always initiated by Nathan. Mark would never do it unless the "muse" was already lying in his esteemed photography studio, hands tied, barely conscious.

Perhaps it was a different matter entirely. Perhaps Caulfield wants to kill herself for a whole different reason. Or maybe she was just really high yesterday. Is that possible? Can being high push people into being suicidal? Never once did he felt that way when he was high.

He spots a familiar grey hoodie slowly making its way through the school grounds. What was she doing sneaking around during class hours? His heart leaps into his throat. _She isn't going to try again, is she?_

 

~~~

 

She has hated alcohol for as long as she remembers but, what the hell, she might as well on her last hours in Arcadia Bay. She doesn't know what came over her earlier but she went ahead and gone snooping in Victoria's room in hopes of finding some food and drinks. She found some and is now enjoying every bit of it in the beach of Arcadia Bay. She even shares it with a couple of ravens who decides to keep her company on this fine day.

The beach is devoid of people. Not even Frank's RV was to be seen. She has all the beach to herself and it makes her feel giddy, a feeling that didn't think she'd have since Chloe's death. She sits on her beach mat in peace, a bottle in one hand, listening to the waves.  She begins a monologue with her new black-feathered friends.

 "If only everyday felt like this." She draws her knees up to her chin. "If only this stupid rewind power didn't exist. You know-" she lowers her head as if to whisper in one of the birds ears- "If  Chloe just died without me having to go through all that shit, I would have gotten over it by now!" She straightens herself and sighs audibly. "But, no. Arcadia Bay absolutely had to screw me over, huh?" _If Chloe had to die anyway, why would whoever the fuck is in charge give her powers?_ The lack of sense of it all makes her head pound. She concludes her fruitless pondering with a swig and coughs from the burn that makes its way through her throat.

The glistening water from the afternoon sunlight reflects off of Max's cerulean eyes, the waves gently inviting her to come. She puts down her refreshment and marches to the shore. When she feels the wet, squishy sand on her toes, she digs her feet into it and revels in the sensation. She takes a step forward and continues to wade through the water until it was up her waist. She leans back and raises her feet to stay afloat. The sky is impeccably blue and she cannot help but smile at how perfect everything was for once. How she wishes she could stay there for rest of her life. 

Minutes later, or was it hours, she wasn't sure, she hears her stomach grumble. It quite puzzled her as she thought she had stuffed herself with enough food and drink to last the whole day. It seems she was mistaken. She stands upright and starts walking back to her belongings. Once she reaches the shore, she was surprised to be greeted by the same ravens that were hanging out earlier, hopping on the sand, as if glad to see her again. She isn't sure why she knows it's them but she does. She waves at them and walks further towards where she sees her beach mat. She notices a figure right beside it. She couldn't make out who it was what with the sea water stinging her eyes. When she was a foot away from the stranger, her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She'd recognize that red jacket anywhere.

 

~~~

 

He about ran from his truck when he saw her body floating atop the water. But when he sees her splashing playfully with her extremities, a sigh of relief escapes his lips. As to why he was relieved, he was baffled. He should head there and drown the bitch to get all his worries over with. He notices a beach mat and what possibly are Max's things in a distance and trudges over there. He loiters for a while observing how peaceful the girl looks. It was hard to believe it was the same person who was going to blast her brains yesterday. Maybe she was just really high.

Max arrives, hugging herself to steady her shivering. Nathan realizes that the water must be freezing in this weather. Why the hell is this girl here in the beach in October?

"What are you doing here?" Her question had an amiable tone to it, as if his appearance was a pleasant surprise. "You didn't follow me here, did you?" She laughs. It was so hearty that Nathan finds himself entranced for a second before snapping a hard no at her. She laughs again.

She sits down on her blue striped beach mat and motions for him to sit right beside her. He obliges and takes the bottle of liquor offered by  a suspiciously cheerful Max Caulfield. She chugs her bottle and finishes it so quick it worried Nathan a bit.

"You know, I hate alcohol. It's just yucky!" She sticks her tongue out to emphasize the disgust.

"Then why are you having some right now?" he inquires as he takes a sip and gazes at the sky to avoid gawking at Max's exposed legs. _How gentlemanly of him_ , he thought.

She wraps herself with a towel she pulled from her bag and shrugs. "I don't know. I was feeling great this morning and I thought maybe this could like boost the feeling or something." She turns her head to Nathan. "I mean, that's what you people always do at your parties, right?"

Nathan cocks one of his eyebrows. "us, people?"

She answers with a hiccup- "Darn it! Do people get hiccups when they drink?" -and throws the bottle away from her.

A thought suddenly occurs to young Prescott heir. _Now is the time to take advantage of the moment and pry some truths from this woman._

He clears his throat. "Hey, how did you know about the Dark Room?" He tries his best to sound casual and friendly. He thinks he succeeds because Max doesn't seem to be startled by the change of topic.

"Well, it's a long story." She hugs her knees. "And you probably won't believe me."

"I'll believe you." Nathan grins in attempts to make her feel comfortable enough to spill the beans. He thinks Jefferson would be proud at how he finally learns to be as cunning as him. He detects the red in the girl's cheeks intensify and her eyes lighting up.

"Really? Okay then!" She straightens her legs and rubs her chin, thinking. "Where do I start?"

Nathan patiently waits with every ounce of his being. He thinks all this waiting will take its toll on him later on.

"The thing is, Nathan"-she blinks"-is that I can rewind time."

He stays still. Dumbfounded. "What?" _Rewind time? Where the fuck did that come from?_ _And how does that even relate to the Dark Room?_

"I can rewind time," states the freckled girl as she pulls a bag of chips from her duffle bag.

He feels his blood rising and counts to ten right away. The girl observes him while munching on her snack. The slow crunch distracts Nathan from his counting and it is slowly pushing him to the edge.

"Did-", he starts with much difficulty-"Did Kate Marsh tell you?"

The brunette frowns at his response. "You said you'll believe me!"

Nathan gives in to his temper. Patience, after all, was not his style. He can hear Mark's tut tut of disappointment in his mind. "Fuck you, Max. Stop screwing with me! Skip the bullshit and tell me the fucking truth."

"But I have!" She exclaims, placing her hand on her chest. "I can rewind time!"

He throws the bottle and rises to leave, but not before spitting out a curse. He feels a tug on the end of his sleeve.

"Don't-" Max cries. "It-it started with this storm." she looks like she was about to tear up like a puppy with abandonment issues.

It wasn't her unbelievably cute puppy eyes that stop him from leaving. "A storm?" He shoots her a look.

 "Yes, a storm." She looks satisfied when Nathan sits down again. "I saw a storm so huge it destroyed Arcadia Bay"

His face is a picture of disbelief. _That can't be true, can it?_

"I was at the lighthouse," she continues. He gulps at her revelation. He had the same fucking dream countless times. How could Max have the same dream too? He breathes a deep breath and makes his choice.

"Tell me more."

She nods and proceeds to tell him the craziest story he has ever heard in his eighteen years of existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, again, thank you so much for the support! I am honestly overwhelmed! <3 I feel like this chapter isn't too interesting but I promise the next one will be. :)


	4. Rewind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm beginning to sound like a broken record but THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH! Here's another chapter and I hope you enjoy it :)

It feels as if someone split her head with an axe. She waits for a second for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and she realizes that she is in her dorm room. She instinctively reaches for her phone under her pillow only to find out it wasn't there. She props up on one of her elbows and pats her bed in search of her missing device. Her failure makes her collapse on her pillow. She, instead, shuts her eyes and tries to recall what happened earlier and how she ended up in her room.

 

Sand.

 

Water.

 

Ravens.

 

The images make her smile.

 

Bottles.

 

Red jacket.

 

Nathan Prescott.

 

Max's eyes grew wide open. The recollection makes her mentally gasp. The Blackwell King was there. But why? She cannot remember. She massages her temples in an effort to do so.

 

"-Dark Room"

 

"-Rewind time-"

 

"Bullshit."

 

 _Shit_ , she whispers. She can't believe she's revealed things to THE Nathan Prescott. She hits her forehead with the heel of her hand a couple of times while chanting all the curses her vocabulary contains. An audible sigh leaves her lips as she draws her blanket over her head. _It doesn't matter_ , she thought and yet the feelings of embarrassment lingered.

Once again, she reaches for her phone under the pillow. Her hand comes out empty and it annoys her. She sits up, sending her vision spinning, and scans her  room. She sees her duffel bag on the floor right beside her bed. She fishes for her goddamn phone and this time, her efforts are met with success. The light of her device makes her squint but she can make out a single notification on the screen.

 

1 missed call.

 

She clicks on it and is greeted with Kate Marsh's name. Her heart leaps into her throat. She jumps out of her bed and runs out of her room.

 

A big yellow X is spread across her friend's door.

 

Her knees turn into jelly. She crumbles onto the floor, hands covering her mouth, hot tears already blurring her eyesight.

 _This is all wrong_ , she thought. She was not supposed to be here for this. How could she have been so careless? Going to the beach in a moment of sheer insanity while a dear friend jumps to her death? She should have stopped it- no- she shouldn't have been around by the time this happened. She should have been gone by now. And yet, here she is, bawling her eyes out for another death that will be etched in her memory.

Victoria's door flies open and a young man walks out. Nathan stops at the sight of Max Caulfield on the floor. Max meets his eyes and a thought clicks in the back of her head. Yes, it makes sense. It was this guy's fucking fault.

"This is all your fault", she declares with a tone laced with so much venom.

She doesn't wait for a reply and heads back to her room with the little strength she had. She slides down her door and sobs even more. She hates him. She also hates herself for being so stupid and allowing herself to be distracted. Peace? Who was she kidding? She was never going to know peace.

She bites on her fist to stop her weeping. When the sobs weaken, she stands up and exits her room. The Prescott heir was nowhere to be found. She doesn't care. She hurries to the rooftop and for some reason, the door was unlocked. Lucky her. The cold wind rushes past her as she opens the door. It doesn't deter her. She makes a beeline to the ledge, the exact same place where Kate stood, and puts a foot on the edge, the storm inside her slowly calming down now that its almost over. But before she could put another foot up, someone yanks her back by the wrist. She hits the floor and when she looks up, her heart drops. _No_ , she frets. _This can't be. Not again_.

 

~~~

 

"This is your fault"

 

He wants to scream at her.

 

_You think I don't know that, Caulfield? You think I don't know I caused a suicide? Do you think I'm that fucking stupid?_

 

But the words never leave his throat. She crawls back into her room and slams the door. Her violent sobs reach his ears and he will never admit it but he wants to storm into that room and comfort Max. He doesn't though. He doesn't have that privilege. He was the monster who killed her friend, after all. He marches quietly back to his room instead.

The first thing he does is switch his stereo on. The sound of waves and whale songs invades the perimeter of his room. He changes his clothes and sits on his bed, reveling in the background music. The splashes of the waves brings him back to his small chat with Max earlier.

"Bullshit." He grits his teeth unable to look straight at Caulfield.

His breath hitches at every revelation that spills from her mouth. The sound of the waves usually calmed him but that afternoon, it all turned into white noise as the brunette recollects how she became the twee bitch who knows it all.

It was getting uncomfortable for the boy. The more Max spoke, the more he understood how truly dangerous it is for this hipster to be around. How could she possibly know the passcode to the Dark Room? Or the names on the binders? Or the phone at the back of his couch?

 

"Are you-", he tightens his grip on his bottle-"working with Mark?" The thought stung but he needed to know.

 

"Fuck no!" Max explodes. "To hell with him."

 

Nathan hears a caw from the group of ravens loitering nearby. He clenches his jaws and runs a hand through his hair. He is running out of possible reasons as to why this bitch knew the things she did.

 

"Shit, Nathan, you don't believe me, huh?" she eyes his features, which is probably radiating images of frustration right now. "Figures," she concludes.

 

"You're fucking insane, woman," Nathan fumes, still choking his bottle, "Stop it with the time rewinding crap. You ill or something?"

 

"Hah! I'm ill? I'm not the one with daddy issues, drugging girls, and--"

 

Nathan cups her jaw it shuts her up. Her wide blue eyes are very calm for someone in her position. She blinks.

 

He lets go.

 

"You know," Max starts and Nathan instantly regrets letting go, "at another timeline, you did that to me the first time we officially met." This earns his attention.

 

"And I scratched you on the cheek." She suddenly puts her hand on his left cheek, her thumb searching for marks that aren't there. He freezes.

 

"I'm sorry about that." She smiles and withdraws her hand.

 

He bows his head and looks the other way, hoping the girl doesn't notice the red sweeping across his face. "Don't you ever touch me again with those filthy hands of yours, Caulfield."

 

"Yes, your highness."

 

 

Nathan never really got to the bottom of how Max knew. Hell will freeze over before he believes some bullshit story about time travelling but he was tired of guessing. Perhaps, he should move on from trying to figure out how she found out and instead think of how to deal with Max Caulfield. She is obviously a threat to Mark and him. If Max isn't in cahoots with Mark, then he is definitely not telling this to his mentor lest he want to be the object of disappointment once again. He can't afford to screw up not after what happened with Rachel. Maybe he should have left the drunk brunette to freeze to death in the beach.

He realizes he is unconsciously brushing his left cheek. He stops it, annoyed at the gesture, and decides to go out for a smoke. He puts on his signature jacket and heads down to the courtyard. The lamps shone bright against the darkness. He leans on the nearest one, not worrying about getting caught in the wee hours of the morning, and draws out his pack. 

He is halfway through his cigarette when he hears a loud thud behind him. Startled, he turns, hoping to see  the what the interruption was. But what seizes his attention is a pool of black liquid threatening to stain the top of his right shoe. He strains his eyes to see where the liquid was coming from and his throat closes up at the sight of Max Caulfield's lifeless body.

His knees give in under him. His stomach turns and if he had anything to eat earlier, he would have hurled it all out. He wants to scream for help but his parted lips won't move. His hands are shaking and he realizes that his cigarette was no longer in between his fingers. He curses and starts searching for it on the ground. He is desperate for anything that would calm his nerves. When he finds it, it was not on the ground. It was floating mid-air. His chest tightens at the sight and he backs up from it as quickly as he can. His movement was abruptly stopped by the lamppost at his back.  He looks up at the lamp and he notices something. He couldn't make out what was missing at first but then it hit him. It is deadly quiet. The lamps are not making its buzzing sound. Seconds later, he learns that the other background noises are gone as well. The crickets, the squirrels, the howling wind, and the shaking leaves. It was all gone. The only thing that could  be heard was the sound of his panicked breathing.

He observes his surroundings and found that everything was still as rock. His mind is beginning to race and beads of sweat is forming on his brow. He picks up a sudden movement at the corner of his eye. The pool of blood is beginning to recede, as if being sucked back into Max's body like a sponge. Her body starts floating upward but before Nathan could conclude if the body made it all up to the rooftop, he starts seeing spots. He shuts his eyes and rests his head on his palm to steady himself. When he opens his eyes, he isn't in the courtyard.

 

"This is your fault!"

 

"W-What?" Nathan stammers.

 

He is ignored and the brunette goes straight back into her room. Nathan blinks and exhales the breath he has been holding. He glances around and sees Vic's door right behind him. He peeks inside, spying his best friend sound asleep in her bed, the same way he left her earlier. He shuts the door as quietly as possible. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to figure out what the fuck just happened.

He sprints to his dorm room and collapses on his couch. He folds his arms and his leg starts to shake.

He was outside. He was smoking. And then-

His face scrunch in an effort to remove the ugly image in his head. He, then, notices his meds on the table. That's it.  That must be it. It wasn't real. It was a hallucination. A side-effect of his fucking meds. _Shit_.

He counts to ten and breathes slowly. When his chest was no longer pounding, he let out one last sigh and lies down on his bed, eager to forget all about the nightmarish ordeal.

It's not even minutes later that he finds himself running towards the rooftop. The door was unlocked and this made him even more nervous then he already is. He pushes it open and to his relief, it was empty. He sighs, leans on the wall beside the door, and chuckles a bit. Of course, it was nothing. Just a hallucination.

He unwittingly fishes for his cigs in his jacket pocket and before he can draw it out, someone barges in and heads straight to the ledge. It was Max.

 

~~~

 

"You again!" was all she could say. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

Nathan was breathing hard. She waits for a response but when it was clear that he wasn't going to give any, Max attempts to climb up the ledge again. She is stopped by a pair of arms clinging on to her from the back.

"Let me go!" she cries as she attempts to remove Nathan's arms. She couldn't. "LET ME GO!"

After seconds of resisting, Max accepts defeat and deflates on the ground. Nathan lets go. Both are still. Max feels something placed on her shoulders. She glances a bit to her right and sees Nathan's jacket. Tears stream across her cheeks. She can't save anyone. Not even herself.

She doesn't know how long she wept. By the time her body decides to stop sobbing, she realizes that Nathan was still there behind her. She would have thought that he had left if it weren't for the smell of menthol. She breaks the silence.

 

"Why are you keeping me alive, Prescott?"

 

When he doesn't answer, she turns to face him and she is met with an expression that doesn't make sense to her. She reads fear, shock, and confusion from his features. She guesses that almost witnessing a suicide could possibly send you into a shock but confusion? Is he regretting his actions? Even in her exhausted state, her curiosity gets the best out of her.

 

"Are you alright?" She inquires and instantly wishes that she didn't ask because when is Nathan ever alright.

 

He blinks. "Max."

 

"Yes?" His tone is so serious that it warranted Max's full attention.

 

"That things about time travelling-" He bites his lip- "How did you do it?"

 

It was Max's turn to look confused. She parts her lips to reply but she doesn't know how to begin to answer his question.

 

"Nevermind." Nathan interrupts. He throws the cigarette to the ground and steps on it. "Let's go back. It's cold."

 

Max nods. She stands up and hands the jacket back but the Nathan has already left.

 

 


	5. Stuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your continuous support! Hope you enjoy this one :)

He's looking straight at the chalkboard, head resting on his palm, the picture of boredom plastered on his face. There is gibberish all over it and Ms whoever-the-hell-she-is is spouting some nonsense about where the X should be or was it the Y? Why could they never teach them something that's actually important? Like, maybe, how time travelling is possible. Not that he thinks it's actually real. He doesn't need people calling him a loony for believing in stupid things like time travelling. 

 

_"Finding intercepts is a fairly simple process.  To find the y-intercept of a function,  all we need to do is-"_

 

Nathan has convinced himself that what transpired in the middle of the night was a dream. He dreamt that Max jumped. Yes, he dreamt it. How else would he know that she'd be attempting to follow Kate's footsteps in the rooftop. He dreamt it, of course he has. There's no other logical explanation. 

 

_"Now, let’s get back to parabolas.  There is a basic process we can always use to get a pretty good sketch of a parabola."_

 

That whole ordeal actually leads Nathan into taking his meds today. As much as he wants the pixie hipster gone from his life, dreaming of her dead body doesn't do him any wonders. If his meds could help him get rid of the nightmares, then fuck it, meds it is.

 

_"First, we find the vertex.  We’ll discuss how to find this shortly.  It’s fairly simple, but there are several methods for finding it and so will be discussed separately."_

 

He's decided to stop meddling in Caulfield's affair. If she wants to die, then she can be his guest. His chest tightens at the thought but he quickly dismisses it. He's not about to care about some random bitch who walks into his life, loaded with all the information that can put him away for eternity. She can go jump into hell if she wants to.

 

_"Now, there are two forms of the parabola that we will be looking at.  This first form will make graphing parabolas very easy."_

 

But what's her problem, anyway? Why is she so hellbent on taking her own life? She even had the nerve to do it under his nose right after he saves her. _Ungrateful little bitch_ , he ponders as he yawns and rubs his eyes.

 

_"Finding intercepts is a fairly simple process.  To find the y-intercept of a function,  all we need to do is-"_

 

She didn't have the decency to thank him after what he did for her. How many times have he stopped her! 

 

_"Now, let’s get back to parabolas.  There is a basic process we can always use to get a pretty good sketch of a parabola."_

 

Nathan shoots a look at his algebra teacher. He squints at her direction in search of something. What that something is, he isn't sure. But for some reason, something feels off. The intensity of his leer does not go unnoticed by his teacher.

 

"Something the matter, Mr. Prescott?" she asks meekly, clutching on to her notes for dear life.

 

Everyone looks at him. He scowls menacingly at his professor for putting him in the spot and eyes the rest of his classmates. "What are you looking at?" he growls. They return their attention to the front and Nathan leans back into his chair, arms crossed. Ms. Whoever-the-fuck clears her throat and continues with her excruciatingly boring lecture.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He draws it out and finds a single text message from his best friend.

 

"You alright?" - Vic

 

He looks back at her and she is observing him like a mother worried for her child. He replies with a small grin and mouths that he's fine. She returns the grin and puts her eyes on the board. He does so as well.

The seconds felt like hours to the young Prescott. He yawns again and decides that he has enough of the XY crap. He pulls his phone out and fiddles with it. He opens the gallery, ogles at some photos. He checks the storage and is disappointed at how only a couple of gigabytes is left, most of it consumed by the random apps Victoria has been installing. He checks his inbox and notices the message Vic sent a while ago is gone. He doesn't remember deleting it but whatever. He continues to skim his inbox. He wonders what Max's number is. He yawns again and rubs the spots off his eyesight.

 

_"Finding intercepts is a fairly simple process.  To find the y-intercept of a function,  all we need to do is-"_

 

Nathan almost snaps his neck and gapes at his professor. She is startled by the sudden movement and becomes very conscious at how he is staring at him as if she grew two heads. 

 

"Something the matter, Mr. Prescott?" 

 

"You already said that."

 

"What?"

 

"The intercepts thing. You already said that." Nathan's eyes are squinting again out of suspicion.

 

"Um... Have I?" She looks at her syllabus, confused. "Have I tackled this lesson already, class?"

 

The students look at each other, shrugging, whispering. No one dares answer. Nathan turns back to Victoria, his face a big question mark. She responds with a confused look.

 

"Well, alright, perhaps we could solve a few more word problems then"

 

Nathan pockets his phone and fixes his attention on the woman in the front. Something is definitely off and he is determined to figure out what the hell it is.

The minutes pass by and the grimace on his face deepens. He cannot find anything out of the ordinary. He scratches his nose with his index finger and rubs his eyes. Perhaps it was his imagination.

 

_"Finding intercepts is a fairly simple process.  To find the y-intercept of a function,  all we need to do is-"_

 

His eyes grow wide. Nathan jolts up and shouts. "Fuck!"

 

His professor freezes on her spot, fear emanating from her face, ready to protect herself in case something goes flying. The class have their eyes on the young Prescott once again.

He is standing, a finger tapping his thigh, deep in thought. He doesn't want to believe it. He doesn't want to. But the endless lecture, the writings on the board that seemed even less than what was written a second ago, the spots in his vision when he rubbed his eyes, Vic's missing message all pointed to one thing, that what happened last night was not a goddamn dream. He sprints out of the room, not a single soul uttered a cry of objection to his inappropriate departure, not even the authority figure in the room that is his math teacher.

 

"Nathan!" A shout from the classroom door stops him. It was Victoria. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

 

He jogs back. "Have you seen Max?"

 

Vic's eyebrow shoots up. "What? Why- No, I haven't. Do you need something from her?"

 

"Yeah," He answers hastily and turns around to begin his search.

 

Victoria grabs his arm. "Can't that wait until later?"

 

Nathan shakes it off and runs.

 

~~~

 

He begins with the hallways of the school, followed by the empty classrooms, and finally the toilets. She was nowhere to be found. He felt stupid for searching the brunette in places that are public but he didn't want to take any chances. He was heading towards the front doors when he starts seeing spots and his vision narrows. He blinks and he is back at his seat in his algebra class.

"Shit!" the boy exclaims before flying out of the room, not bothered by the reaction of the class to his sudden outburst. He sprints for the front doors and ignores the call of his name from presumably his best friend. He has no time for distractions. Every second was precious.

He is in front of Max Caulfield's door, gasping for air from all the running. This make him thinks on working on his cardio. Nathan knocks heavily on the door. No one answers.

"Max Caulfied, open the door!" he barks. He turns the knob out of impatience and the door opens without resistance. The room was empty. He curses and heads upstairs to the rooftop. It is sealed shut. He returns to the girl's dormitory and sees Alyssa exit the ladies room. He marches towards her but before he could interrogate her as to the whereabouts of a certain freckled brunette, the spots reappear.

He curses louder this time before sprinting out of the room. He runs straight to the ladies room at the girls dormitory. Alyssa lets out a squeal from the unwanted intrusion.

 

"Shut up! Where's Max?" the young prescott demands right away.

 

"M-Max Caulfield? She's not here."

 

"No shit, Sherlock"

 

"I haven't seen her, okay?"

 

Nathan scoffs and darts out of the ladies room. He decides to check out each dorm room before his time runs out. After knocking on a random door twice to no avail, he throws all courtesy out of the window and just pushes it open. Again, he is met by an empty space. He does this with the rest of the rooms. Every single one returned no Max Caulfield.

 

He wipes the sweat from his brow. _Perhaps the bitch decided to drown herself?_ He runs to the pool as quick as he can, ignoring calls from some of his "friends" from the Vortex Club. There is no one in the pool. He surveys both the girls and boys locker rooms but his search is fruitless. He grits his teeth and feels his temper rising from his gut. Seconds later, his sight is consumed by spots yet again.

 

_"Finding intercepts is a fairly simple process.  To find the y-intercept of a function,  all we need to do is-"_

 

 _Goddamit Caulfield. When I find you, I'll kill you myself_ , he thought.

He doesn't dash out of the room yet. He thinks of the places where Max could possible do it. She can't be that far. If the reason he is in this... time loop?- is because Max needs to be stopped then she must be somewhere he can reach. By foot or by-

He takes out his keys from his pocket and heads straight to his red pick-up truck. He drives around the town, eyeing every pedestrian, almost running over some people. He drives to the beach. A bunch of people were walking their dogs but none resembled the person he is hunting for. He rests his forehead on the wheel. He is beginning to feel the exhaustion seep into his bones.

On his next try, he takes out the truck again. He parks at some random spots and searches the girl on foot. His temper increases at every failed attempt. Later, he is spouting curses at random people, telling them to mind their own business.

After another reset, his ears turn red and he flips his table in the middle of the class. His teacher hides behind her desk. The other students flee as far as they could away from him. He grabs his chair and hits his desk with it over and over again until it turns into a heap of splinters. He can see Victoria at the corner of his eye, wanting to approach him. He stops and tries to catch his breath. His vision narrows and he shuts his eyes as he inhales a deep breath. He opens them and he is slouching on his seat and his desk is as good as new.

 

_"Finding intercepts is a fairly simple process.  To find the y-intercept of a function,  all we need to do is-"_

 

He slowly rises and heads for the door. Eyes follow him but no one dares question the actions of the Blackwell King. He walks to the boys dormitory. He feels a lump in his throat and tears welling in his eyes. What if he cannot get himself out of this? This is unfair. Why the fuck does it have to be him of all people? This is too unfair. He pushes the door to his room, the idea of collapsing into his bed for a minute comforting him.

Max Caulfield is sitting on his bed, gun on her lap, a couple of pills on her palm.

 

~~~

 

He bolts into the room, swipes the gun, and slaps her hand. The pills fall on the floor. Max is stunned by his unanticipated appearance.

 

"What the fuck, Max!" Nathan spits as he grabs for her wrist, "I am getting tired of this. I've been looking all over for you. I-"

 

"Why?" she interrupts as she gazes at Nathan with intensity. "Why were you looking for me?"

 

This is getting ridiculous. Is Nathan spying on her? How on earth does he keep finding her? And why the fuck does he keep stopping her?

Nathan parts his lips and Max waits patiently for an explanation. But instead of words, a sigh leaves his lips. He lets go of her wrist and rubs his temple. The red on his face is vanishing and Max could feel his temper dissipating into the air, replaced by exhaustion.

She is motionless, in shock of what just happened, or in their case, of what keeps happening. She wasn't really planning on doing it at Nathan's room but when she got there to return his jacket, she saw the gun under his bed and she couldn't stop her hand from reaching out for it. She notices the bottle of pills too and grabs for that as well. Just as she was making her decision, Nathan Prescott decides to show up and, once again, foil her effort. She supposes it could happen, this being his room after all. But this is the third time that he has stopped her. And that couldn't be coincidence, right? It just can't be. It doesn't make sense.

 

"Answer me."

 

Nathan sits on his couch opposite her, elbows on his knees, finger entwined.

 

"Max, I-" 


	6. Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 kudos?! OMG thank you so much! I wondered if I'd regret sharing this fic with the world and I was so prepared to be *almost* ignored since the fandom isn't active anymore but, man, to be able to create something that is enjoyed by at least a hundred people feels absolutely amazing. THANK YOU <3<3<3

"Fuck you!" The young brunette screams at the top of her lungs. "Fuck all of you!"

 

The lighthouse, unperturbed by her bouts of anger, stands still on the hill where she first witnessed the merciless storm tore through her beloved hometown. She is down on the ground on all fours, gasping for air after minutes of screaming. 

 

"What do you want from me?" she pleads as she claws her fingers on the dirt. She feels the dirt cling to her fingernails. "Just what do you want from me?" 

 

She sits up and stays there until the sun leaves the horizon. When stars begin to peak behind the clouds against the ink black sky, she rises and takes a seat on the bench nearby. Max wipes her eyes and cheeks with the clean side of her jacket sleeve before pulling out her phone to check what has prompted its vibration.

 

"Hey Max! Didn't see you in class today. You alright?" - Warren

 

"Hi SuperMax, i know Kate's passing must be hard on you. You take all the time you need okay? - Dana

 

"Where r u? Don't u dare do anything funny" - unknown number   

  

She scoffs at Nathan's text message. The Prescott heir has disclosed earlier what the deal was with his incessant meddling. The news felt like concrete walls pushed down on her. It wasn't about the powers, no. She was in no position to doubt that. She was bothered a bit by why it was Nathan, yes,  but what broke her heart the most was the fact that she wasn't allowed to escape. She felt like a small animal locked in a cage, doomed to serve as an entertainment to Arcadia Bay for eternity. She hated it. She hated Arcadia Bay. She hated Nathan. She hated herself.

He revealed that the first rewind happened after the incident with Chloe. When Max took the gun from him and told him to go, he walked as fast as he could away from the ladies room. He was on his way to the dormitory when everything went weird. He opened his eyes and found himself in front of the ladies room again. He dismissed it as a hallucination or a daydream or whatever. He peeped inside and darted towards her when he saw his pistol against her head.

 

"You should've just shot me," she replied, venom laced in her tone.

 

"Fuck you, Max. I'm sorry I'm not the murderer you wanted me to be." Nathan slouches on the couch, hands in his jacket's pockets.

 

"In the timeline I'm from, you actually are," she shoots back, "You shot Chloe."

 

Nathan looks at anywhere but her face. "Yes, you told me."

 

Max was confused for a second until she remembered their time at the beach. She wanted to ask how much she revealed but she felt that neither of them were in the mood for sharing stories.

Her phone vibrates again.

 

"Srsly, where r u?" - unknown number

 

The text of concern surprises her but not enough to reply. She slides her phone back in her pocket. It vibrates again but she opts to ignore it. She rests her forehead on her palms, "Just tell me what you want."

 

 

 "Ok."

 

Max jumps on her seat. She searches for the source of the voice but she does not see anyone that could possibly fit the bill, a young child, to be exact. A caw snatches her attention and she realizes that she is surrounded by pairs of shiny eyes, reflecting the light off the beams emitted by the lighthouse, perched atop branches. Some of the eyes begins to descend and when it lands on the ground, Max confirms that the eyes belonged to ravens. One particular raven lands on the bench where she sat and makes itself comfortable beside Max. She feels its beady eyes on her and it sends cold chill that spreads along her spine. The sensation prompts her to stand up and walk back to the forest trail as calmly as she could.

 

"Stop."

 

She hesitantly obeys and swallows a lump that has formed in her throat. Cold sweat is forming on her brow. She slowly turns, dreading who or what might be there. But when she turns, there was no one.

 

Max releases the breath she was holding. "Who-", her voice tainted with fear-"who's there?"

 

She'd hoped that her question remained unanswered, silently praying that what she has been hearing the past couple of seconds is nothing but a result of her exhaustion. But the clarity of the reply of the still unknown party has proven her terribly mistaken.

 

"Hello, Max Caulfield."

 

Max's eyes grow wide from terror. Her limbs are devoid of movement but her eyes dart to every direction, desperate to learn the source of the voice. It settles on the image of a particular black raven on the bench, hopping in its place, as if trying to catch her attention. When it succeeds, it stops its hopping and cocks its head to one side, waiting for something. Perhaps, waiting for Max to finally understand. It takes a minute for her to do so.

She crosses her arms and hugs herself. To protect herself from the cold or from the birds, she isn't sure. She directs her gaze towards the ground as she forces herself to take slow breaths. She has been in very odd situations before. Why would talking birds unsettle her now? She takes one last deep breath and faces the single raven on the bench. It seems to notice how she has gathered her composure and straightens up as well.

 

"What do you want?" Max's voice is stern as possible.

 

 She hears the voice of the child again and this time it is chuckling. "Are you scared, young girl?"

 

The frown that appears on Max's face conveys the annoyance that the question has stirred in her. The expression was not amiss by... Them, whoever they are.

 

"My apologies. We did not mean to offend you." The raven tilts its head again to one side. "Please do not be afraid, if you are. We will not hurt you. We need you alive."

 

"I realize that," Max replies with a bit more of cheek than she realizes. She goes ahead and repeats the question she has been asking since she's arrived at the lighthouse. "What do you want from me?"

 

The raven flaps its wings for a second. "We wonder if, first, you would like to learn some other important facts about us?" Max's eyebrows meet. "Like, perhaps, who we are?"

 

She blinks. A lifetime ago, Max would kill for answers to the million questions that accompanied the emergence of her power. Why was she chosen? What was she supposed to do? The memory makes her sigh. She massages her temple in an effort to stop her mind from beginning a barrage of inquiries before it makes her ache all over again.

 

"I don't care," she answers, not withholding the sharpness in her tone, "just tell me want you want."

 

The raven stands upright, as if indignant to Max's lack of interest to their identity. A few seconds pass by before Max is granted an answer.

 

"Peace. All we want is peace in Arcadia Bay."

 

This doesn't sit well with Max. "And a tornado is going to achieve that?"

 

The other ravens caw.

 

"A tornado is one way of purging the evil out of Arcadia Bay, yes."

 

Max's lips part, ready to whip back a rebuttal. She is, however, interrupted.

 

"Another, is to bestow someone the ability to purge the evil themselves."

 

The words vanish from her tongue and her jaw is left hanging. So that was why she was given the power. She guesses she sort of knew but she had hoped that someone cleared it up for her from the beginning.

 

"You have done splendidly, in fact," the raven praises, "because of you, this town is  remedied of the disease that was brought about by Mark Jefferson."

 

Max's eyebrows creases again. "I don't understand. If the job is done, why am I being kept alive? Are you trying to help me or something? I don't-"

 

"I'm afraid, dear, that you have used your power unwisely this time," the raven's head bobs from one side to another, "You see, we have decided to reward you with a permanent ownership of this power for your brave effort and not to mention, valiant sacrifice-" Max bites her lips at that- "but when you decided to travel back to this time, all your hard work has been, to our utmost dismay, undone."

 

She pales at the revelation.

 

"The reason, dear Max Caulfield, as to why we are keeping you alive," the raven continues, "is we need you to cure our beloved Arcadia Bay of a dark element once again. The same one you have destroyed before."

She feels the energy drain from her body, forcing her to drop on her knees. Her mouth is dry and her eyes are fixed on a random spot on the ground. Her arms lay lifelessly on her sides. The ravens on the ground surrounding her hop quietly towards her, tilting their tiny heads up to look at her face.

She swallows before she manages to utter the words. "It's not fair, I-I-", she swallows again before she chokes, "I don't know the rules! How was I supposed to know? I had to figure out everything on my own. No one told me this would happen! If I've known-" her shoulders drop, her eyes glazing over, radiating defeat. 

The area grew silent. Only the swiveling motion of the lighthouse as it emanated its rays of light was to be heard.

Max sighs. It felt like a good reason to start weeping but somehow tears didn't form. She sat motionless on the ground, exhausted. She shuts her eyes and musters enough strength to ask a question she dreads the answer to. "Do you want me to sacrifice Chloe again?"

 

A caw, followed by a short flap of the wings, preceded the Raven's enthusiastic reply. "I do believe that we have a proposition that is sure to cheer you up, young lady."

 

Max returns the statement with a confused glance. What could possibly cheer her up now that she knows she will have to go through hell again?

 

"Death should not come to your childhood friend," the raven explains, " if the man who is the source of this town's current misfortunes is-- taken care of."

 

The brunette's exhilaration from the first part of the news was quickly damped by disclosure of the second part. She had to make sure they were on the same page as to what "taken care of" means.

 

She stood up and dusted off the soil from her knees. "You mean, tucked away in prison, right? Like what happened last-"

 

"We know you are not daft, Ms. Caulfield," the raven interjects, "we know you get our meaning."

 

Her cheeks are drained of its color. "Are you- " she brings her hand up to her mouth- "asking me to kill him?"

 

The ravens caw in a frenzy. The single raven on the bench bobs its head in agreement.

 

She found it outrageous, even more unfair than what was previously expected of her. "You want me to be a murderer!" she yells, failing to keep her temper under control. The ravens halt in their chorus of caws and focuses their attention on the young girl in their midst.

 

"Why, we are disheartened that we both do not see it from the same perspective." A few ravens caw. "You have been offered an opportunity to live a life where your dearest friend is alive and well."

 

"But-"

 

"Dear Ms. Caulfield, I suppose you do not understand the magnitude of this opportunity and you can hardly be blamed as you do not know all the facts. Allow me to shed some light on the matter."

 

Max concedes and allows the raven to speak. She is kneading her hands in hopes that it would lessen the anxiety.

 

"There are powers in the air that work in ways humans cannot possibly understand. As of matter of fact, even we do not. And for reasons even we cannot fully comprehend, the liberation of Arcadia Bay was tied rather very closely to the death of Chloe Price."

 

"That does not make any sense-"

 

"And I am sure, from a human's perspective, that you are very right."

 

Max's lips tighten.

 

"Since you have served us very well in the past, we have decided to _interfere_ in the grand scheme of things so to speak. We have decided to make a bargain. And we are hoping that this bargain would move things differently."

 

The raven pauses, giving time for the freckled teenager to respond. None was spoken.

 

"We believe that your friend will be freed from her grim fate if you offer Mark Jefferson's life instead."

 

"But I don't understand, " the words escape her lips before she could stop to think, "There were so many timelines that I thought I had it right but the storm happened anyway! "

 

"The powers--"

 

"Oh fuck off!" she waves a hand in an air, irritated, "This bullshit about powers and the airs and stuff, are you saying we're all victims to fate or destiny or whatever? Wasn't it you who gave me these powers? You who sent the storm? You who involved Nathan in this?"

 

The ravens stood still. "You are right," the particular one replied, "it was us. We will not deny it."

 

"Then just stop the fucking storm and--"

 

"I'm afraid we cannot grant you that request. It is our mission to guard Arcadia Bay and we will do so however way we can."

 

She curses under her breath. There is no reasoning with this group, it seems.

 

"It will take an eternity to explain why events unfold the way they do," the raven continues, "We do not know of every truth and mechanism that the universe is built upon. What is important is how we make use of the truths that we do know."

 

"And the truth is if we want to save Arcadia Bay, Chloe should die," she sighs, "unless-"

 

Silence fills the air.

 

"And you're sure that Chloe will be safe?" she asks meekly.

 

"We believe she will be kept alive, yes." The ravens tilt their heads in anticipation to her answer.

 

"But-", she inquires, "why Chloe? Why did she have to die? Why couldn't it be someone else?"

 

"I fear you will find us incapable of giving you a response that will satisfy you," the raven caws, "you see, there are things that we can control and things that we cannot. The choice in which who needed to be sacrificed in order to attain our objective falls under the latter."

 

"Then how do you know that killing Jefferson will spare Chloe?" Max's eyes water in desperation for some clarity, "How do you know if killing _anyone_ will spare Chloe?"

 

"One truth about the universe that we are certain of is that if a life is required, then a life shall be taken. Or in this case, given."

 

The non-answer makes Max's jaw clench. The raven notices the disgruntled expression on the brunette and quickly amends its reply.

 

"We will keep your friend safe to the best of our ability."

 

This calms her but does not quell the questions that have been running through her head. She has tried so hard to make sense of every word that has been spoken of tonight but it seems that the more she asked questions, the more foggy her brain becomes.  It was useless to try to reconcile all the events of the other timelines to the "truths" that these ravens were divulging. The only key points that she has taken from this conversation is that these birds are goddamn stubborn when it comes to Arcadia Bay and they want Jefferson dead. She mentally gives up and concentrates on the question on hand. Is she willing to kill a man to keep her best friend alive?

After minutes of contemplation, going through every possible thought that a person in her situation could think of, and replaying the image of her best friend getting shot in the head a million times, she looks the raven in the eye and gives her response.

The ravens caw in enthusiasm and flies in unison, leaving her in the company of the lonely lighthouse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBH, i just really want to murder jefferson haha


	7. Truth

"Max?!"

 

"Chloe!" The young brunette jumps into her arms, unable to contain her excitement.

 

"Max!" is what the blue-haired teenager could utter after suddenly being the object of such affection. "I can't believe you're here!"

 

"I am so sorry, Chloe," Max cries, arms wrapped around the waist of her best friend. The sound of her steady heartbeat makes her eyes water. "I'm so sorry for leaving you when you needed me the most."

 

Chloe is not able to say a word. She smiles and her eyes begins water as well.

 

"I'm so sorry I didn't make the effort to talk with you after I left," Max continues  in between chokes, "I'm so sorry."

 

"Wow, Max, I don't know what to say," Chloe tightens her embrace, "you show up on our doorstep out of the blue and, damn, you sure know how to pull my heartstrings, don't you?"

 

Max breaks the hug and laughs. Chloe does too

 

"Breakfast at Two Whales?"

 

"Yes, please!" the younger of the two exclaims.

 

~~~

 

The smell of fried eggs filled her nostrils as she entered the diner. The air is warm and the sound of country music served as the backdrop to chatters of truckers having the first meal of the day. Chloe heads straight to an empty booth. It was the same booth that the both of them have stayed in at the other timelines. She remembers when she proved her powers to her best friend by guessing the contents of her pockets, which she now finds weird because how does guessing what's in someone's pockets prove you have time-rewinding powers? Shouldn't that have proven that she had x-ray vision?

 

She also remembers how she assumed a role of a clairvoyant reader and "predicted" what would unfold in the next five minutes. The breaking cup, the fight, the bug in the jukebox. Chloe had no problem accepting everything that came out of her mouth. Any other person would have admitted her to a hospital or chase her and her sorcery out of Arcadia Bay but no, not Chloe. And she would have totally understand if her dear friend rejected her after all those years of getting the cold shoulder from Max. It would hurt but she would accept it. But Chloe didn't. And yes, she did mention her years of being AWOL and how she was upset that Max didn't come to see her sooner during their drive to the diner earlier but she could see that her presence made the blue-haired girl too happy to stay mad. And she loved Chloe for that. God, she loved Chloe for that. She despises herself for abandoning someone as good as her. She doesn't deserve it. And she absolutely doesn't deserve to die.

 

Joyce comes over. "And there she is-- a lovely young woman. How are you doing Max?" She pours hot coffee into her cup. 

 

"Hi Joyce, it's nice to see you again. You look the same," she remembers this conversation and it amazes her how she's got all the lines memorized. Hers and everybody else's.

 

"Like I'm still a waitress at Two Whales after all these years?"

 

"No, like you still look pretty"

 

"Nice save, kid. You're still smart-" Max smiles at that- "so, what do you want to eat?"

 

That question has always been the toughest to answer but she thinks she's in the mood for some Belgian waffles today. She tells Joyce.

 

"Aren't you going to ask your own daughter, mom?" Chloe interrupts.

 

"Don't have to." Joyce leaves the table, bringing her coffee pot with her.

 

"Extra bacon please!" Chloe yells. Her mother raises both her eyebrows to that as she returns whatever food was in the fryer.

 

"So Maxipad," Chloe's attention is on her now, "how's life going at Blackhell?"

 

Max is looking at her friend, rather looking straight through her. The deal she struck with the "ravens" has driven her so excited that she went straight to Chloe's house the next morning, not taking a moment as to decide if she'd reveal her powers the same way she had in the past timelines. She is contemplating if it was necessary to inform her childhood friend of her plans of becoming a murderer.  She might want to know. Especially, if the man she was going to kill was the man who killed her beloved Rachel Amber. 

 

She doesn't want to bring up the topic of Rachel Amber but she knew that it was bound to happen. When she saw the posters in Chloe's dashboard earlier, she kept mum. It was her companion who began the conversation she was hoping to avoid.

 

"That's Rachel Amber," she informs her prodigal best friend as she motions to the scattered papers.

 

Max pressed her lips together, hesitant, but replies. "Is she a friend?"

 

"She was-"gloom passes over Chloe's face-"my angel." She pauses and continues, "after my dad died and moved, I felt abandoned." Max's chest tightens at the word but she knows she deserves every bit of the ache. "Rachel saved my life."

 

She won't admit it but Max Caulfield never truly liked Rachel Amber and she hates how juvenile the reason for that is. She couldn't help it. It was her fault anyway. She can't expect Chloe to not welcome new people in her life when she left. But no matter how hard Max tries to reason with herself, the gnawing feeling of jealousy just won't leave her. This fuels her self-hate even more.

 

But no matter what Max feels towards Rachel, it doesn't alter the fact that this person loved and took care of Chloe when she was not around. She deserves a great amount of gratitude for that. Max knows Chloe is the most grateful of them all. And so it tears her heart just thinking of revealing what happened to Rachel. Can she do it? Must she?

 

"Yoohoo!" Chloe waves her hand in front of Max's face, "ground control to major Tom! You there, Maxipoo?"

 

Max snaps out of her thoughts and realizes that her Belgian waffles was sitting in front of her, waiting to be devoured. She apologizes to her friend, slices herself a piece of her breakfast, and begins to talk about her days in Blackwell. It was all she could do to not spill the truth about her powers, the dark room, the storm, everything. Chloe was, after all, her partner in crime (and time) in another timeline. In this current one, however, she isn't. And Max decides, perhaps, she does not need to involve Chloe this time.

 

The thought of it are daggers to her chest. It feels like betrayal to the one and only friend who she knows would remain loyal to her for the rest of her days if she would let her. But her strong desire to keep her safe has won her over. If being lonely on this conquest meant keeping her best friend unharmed, then it is a price she is more than willing to pay. She whispers an apology to the blue-haired teenager and promises to fulfill her duties as a friend this time.

 

"You have got to come see my secret lair!" her best friend exclaims as soon as the both of them are done with the scrumptious meal, "you should ditch class today!"

 

Chloe is met with zero resistance.

 

~~~

 

"Welcome to the American Rust", exclaims the older girl, waving her bottle of beer in the air, "my home away from hell."

 

"Raw and rough, it suits you," Max stares at the direction of the body of her friend's beloved, half-expecting to see a transparent doe peeking behind the mountain of wreckage. She still hasn't decided if she should tell her best friend about the tragic fate of Rachel Amber. She was leaning towards keeping it all to herself.

 

"You seem distracted, Max," Chloe remarks, trying to hide the worry in her voice. "How about we play a little game?" She lifts her other hand and reveals a black pistol. Max gasps despite herself. She cocks an eyebrow and puts her left hand on her chest. "Is everyone in Arcadia Bay armed now?" She doesn't know why she was even surprised to see Chloe with David's gun.

 

Chloe tilts her head a bit, puzzled by the freckled girl's question. Max picks up on this and realizes her best friend doesn't know that it was she who stopped Nathan in the ladies room that day. She hopes Chloe doesn't put two and two together. To her relief, her best friend shrugs it off and proceeds to berate her stepfather. "Only the ones who shouldn't be. Like step-dildo."

 

Max knew what was about to happen. When Chloe requests for the bottles, she was back not even a minute later, five bottles on hand. Chloe prepares the shooting range and aims the stolen gun. With Max's guidance, all the bottles ends up shattered with ease.

 

"Hell yeah! You are good at this Max!" Chloe shouts. Max smiles and nods in agreement, refusing to disclose why she knew what to do.

 

Later, Chloe leads Max to her secret hideout. She stops by where Rachel's body is. "Something wrong?" Chloe asks. Max returns her question with a gaze.

 

"You're freaking me out, Max," she rubs the back of her neck, "are you alright?"

 

Max bites her lips and lowers her gaze.

 

_She deserves to know the truth. She must know that not everyone abandoned her. She needs to know that her angel was taken away from her, that she didn't walk out on her._

 

She musters the courage to look at her childhood friend again. Her lips part but the sight of the older girl's face stops her. Max returns the expectant look with a smile instead. Chloe replies with a toothy grin herself.

 

"Nothing. I just remembered I need to go back," Max lies.

 

"Already? It's not even dark out yet!"

 

"I need to do this essay due for tomorrow," Max is looking at anywhere but her friend.

 

"Well, I guess that enough hooky for the day," Chloe puts her arm around Max's shoulders and walks her back to the truck. "We'll hang out soon, right?"

 

"Absolutely!" Max agrees with enthusiasm. In the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees a doe.

 

~~~

 

His recent shots looked plain to him and it infuriates him. Since the incident, his mentor spoke less with him, not giving him the time he deserved as his protégé. He hasn't been performing well in terms of photography and at this rate, he'll have next to zero chances of winning the goddamn Everyday Hero's contest.

 

He had to win it. No, not to prove himself. He's already done so when Mark has chosen him as a mentee. He has to win it for his best friend, Victoria. He be damned if he let that pretentious son of a bitch lay a finger on one of the few people in the world who truly cared for him. It would be difficult knowing that Vic would stop at nothing to win that stupid contest. If only he could tell her how dangerous it is to be around that man.

 

He feels his phone vibrate and is startled by who the message sender was. He was hoping that Max Caulfield would finally learn how to use her phone and  hit the reply button. He was absolutely going to give her a piece of his mind once he spots her. He didn't ask to be her babysitter. The least she could do is to make things easier for him.

 

He opens the message sent by Blackwell's famous photography teacher.

 

"Dark room. Now."

 

He stands up from the bench he has been spending hours at in front of Blackwell. He puts the strap of his expensive camera around his neck and heads towards the parking lot. Finally, some face time with the mentor.

  

He finds him sitting comfortably on the couch, a red binder in one hand, a glass of scotch on the other. He goes ahead and sits on the other end of the sofa, hands in his pockets.

 

"Welcome, Nathan" his teacher greets, eyes still focused on his binder, "how's your day?"

 

Nathan switches on his camera and starts looking at his gallery again, continuing where he left off earlier. "Shitty."

 

Mark smiles at him. "I have good news."

 

He lifts his head to look straight at his photography teacher. He knows what his "good news" always meant and he was never really sure what he felt when a new victim -- a new muse, rather-- is scheduled for a session. He hates doing the dirty work but he keeps at it because it was the only way he'd find favor with someone as prestigious as Mark Jefferson. People would kill to be in his shoes, to be able to work so closely with a genius like him. Being the person he trusts to do the things needed to be done is an honor. And he'll keep doing shit if it means getting recognition from someone like him. To hell with being misunderstood. To hell with feelings. To hell with--

 

"Do you know Max Caulfield?"


	8. Acceptance

"Open the damn door."

 

The light from Max's phone burns her eyes. She attempts to shield her delicate orbs by placing her other hand on the screen. She lowers it a bit to take a peek at what the time was. The tired Blackwell student curses after learning that it was a bit after one in the morning. She puts down her phone and draws her blanket up to her chin, not fearing whatever consequence ignoring the Prescott heir's text message might bring. It doesn't take long to find out.

 

Her phone constantly rings from the notifications. When she puts it on silent, the hum from the vibration pestered her. And when she finally switches it off, the knocks began. It was hush at first, as if the door was made of something very fragile and could shatter at a hit too strong. But when the perpetrator of the disturbance realized that his demand for attention is not being attended to, he puts a little bit more weight to his knocks. He accompanies it with a barrage of curses delivered in a very controlled manner. Max throws her blanket to the side and stomps to the door.

 

"What do you want?" She tries to sound menacing as she rubs her eyes and stifles a yawn. The soft illumination from her nightlight bounces off of the features of the rich, entitled brat in front of her.

 

"We need to talk," the boy replies, eyes nowhere near the other party's face. The girl follows his gaze and realizes he is gawking at her exposed legs. _So Nathan Prescott's a legs man, huh?_

 

Max tilts her head and tries to catch the adolescent's line of sight. Her gesture catches him off guard. He clears his throat as he pulls his eyes away. She smirks and crosses her arms, somewhat proud of being able to embarrass the King of Blackwell. Nathan doesn't seem to like this fact and pushes his way inside Max's room, sideswiping her on the shoulder to remind her who the alpha male is. She sighs at the childish behavior and proceeds to close the door and turn the lights on.

 

"This couldn't wait until tomorrow?" She is standing by her door, observing the young man in the middle of her room as he takes in the scenery that is her humble dormitory room.

 

Nathan scoffs, "obviously not." He is not facing Max, perhaps still embarrassed by his moment of weakness earlier. Both his hands are tucked away in his jacket's pockets as he perused Max's belongings. Her bookshelves, her laptop, her posters. It was making her uncomfortable, worried about what the intruder had to say about her taste in things. She braced herself for a healthy supply of mean comments but none came her way. The boy just went on examining silently. When he spots her memorial wall, she sees a glimmer in his eyes, as if in awe of what was spread before him. Max's pupils dart between him and her wall, unsure of what to make of the unusual sight.

 

She feels the drowsiness again and opts to take a seat on her sofa. She doesn't realize that she has fallen asleep until she feels a sudden pain on her forehead. The sleepy brunette straightens up and rubs the stinging area. She sees Nathan sitting right beside her and it takes her a second to remember when the boy got here.

 

"Did you-" one eyebrow shoots up- "just flick my forehead?"

 

The young Prescott sniggers in reply and for some reason this annoys Max. "If you have something to say, spit it out already."

 

Her irate reply wipes the smile off his face.

 

"You're Jefferson's next target."

 

~~~

 

Nathan believes that what he just revealed should have scared the crap out of this thin, mousy girl. He was waiting for a dramatic gasp or some tears even. But Max just kept a straight face. He saw a hint of surprise in her eyes but it seems it was all he was going to get. It was all he could do to not shake the brunette in hopes that the implications of his dreadful announcement would sink in into that pretty head of hers.

 

She tears her gaze away from him and stares at a point in space with unfocused eyes. Her eyebrows crease and her lips are moving as if chanting something beneath her breath. A devilish grin blooms on her face. Nathan blinks in confusion.

 

"You're not... scared?"

 

Max turns her head in his direction as if surprised to see him there.

 

"What are going to do?" she asks, a trace of concern in her tone. It confuses him even more.

 

"What am I going to do? Didn't you hear what I just said?" Nathan growls, "you're his next target!" He doesn't know why his temper is already on the loose at this point of the conversation. Max parts her lips and shuts it again, her face somewhat sorry for not being clear. It makes Nathan want to apologize right away for being his awful self once again but his ego won't let him.

 

"I mean-" the freckled brunette starts in a calm yet stern manner- "are you supposed to drug me? In party or something?"

 

Nathan clenches his jaw and looks away, all temper almost visibly dissipating into the air. The thought of drugging Max Caulfield makes his stomach turn.

 

"That depends," he answers quietly. "If you don't submit a photo for the Everyday's Hero contest, then I have to at the Vortex Party." He bounces his right leg.

 

Max keeps still, hopefully digesting what he just said. He leans his elbows on his knees and puts his hands together, cracking his knuckles to distract him from the heavy atmosphere. The girl's calm and quiet demeanor unsettles him. He wants to get mad at her for not being as anxious as he is. Nathan heaves a sigh and breaks the silence.

 

"We need a plan," the boy suggests.

 

His proposal is met with a questioning look. Max didn't have to blurt out the thought that accompanied the bewildered expression. _Why?_

 

It hurt him. He doesn't know why but it did. Why is it even a question? Is it so out of this world to want to keep her alive?

 

"Look, if I weren't cursed with this time loop thing then I won't even bother, okay? But I am and here we are."

 

The girl looks at him thoughtfully, her wide blue eyes making him uncomfortable.

 

"I-" she purses her lips- "I can manage."

 

 _That's it?_ Nathan thought. He taps his fingers furiously on his knees, waiting patiently for something. For an explanation, for a coherent thought in his head to form, for this meeting to end, he doesn't know. He didn't come all the way here to be met with such a stoic response. The least this ungrateful bitch can do is to divulge the master plan, or whatever she had in mind. He can't be stuck in that stupid loop again.

 

"No." he murmurs in a very restraint voice.

 

"No what?"

 

"No, you can't manage. If all that time rewinding bullshit story you told me is true then you know Mark is a very dangerous man to be around with." His voice is an octave lower.

 

"But it's alright for _you_ to be around him?" The girl replies haughtily.

 

"That's different. He trusts me, okay?"

 

"No, he doesn't. He's using you."

 

The brunette's statement hits a nerve. Before he knows it, his hand is clutching Max's elbow. "Take that back," he rumbled, teeth clenched. She yanks her elbow away from him, not showing even an ounce of fear towards the infuriated teenager. 

 

"I know you know it's true, Nathan." There is a force in her voice that is difficult to ignore.

 

"Shut up!"

 

"You can't keep denying it!"

 

"I said shut up!" He stops his shaking hands from wrapping the girl's neck. This conversation had to stop soon.

 

"You said it yourself! That he was using you!"

 

Nathan stares at Max. "I-" his throat is closing up-"I said that?"

 

~~~

 

The look on his face made her regret her tactlessness. She realizes she is walking on dangerous waters here. How could she have forgotten how unstable this person is?

 

"I received a voice mail from you the day before the storm. You said-" She shoot glances at Nathan, not sure if she could continue. He is staring at the floor with wide eyes, leg shaking-"you warned me about Jefferson and that he was coming for you-"

 

"He was coming for me?" He turns to Max. The hollowness of his eyes makes her turn away. "I- did he-"

 

She nods ever so subtly and confirms his suspicions. "He killed you."

 

His lips part as he glared at her. Every second of silence felt like a brick being hurled at Max. She wasn't expecting to emotionally destroy someone tonight. How could she have been so careless with her words? He didn't have to know that, did he?

 

"No," the boy whispers as he turns his eyes to the ground. "You're lying." Max is ready to reply when he suddenly rises from the couch and steps towards a corner, hands on his waist.

 

"I came here tonight-" Nathan starts-"to warn you about Mark and this is the thanks I get?" He turns to Max, face contorted from anger. "You fucking lie to me?" He clenches his fists, veins making itself visible.

 

She stands up as well. "Nathan, listen to me," Max pleads, a hand reaching out towards the aggravated boy, "I'm not lying. Jefferson is the one who is lying to you. He will hurt you-" Nathan grabs both her shoulders and draws her closer.

 

"Shut up!" his growl threatens to wake up the whole girl's dormitory, "Don't pretend to care! You don't know me! You don't know anything about me!" Max winces and looks away, shocked by the sudden hostile behavior. She shouldn't be surprised really. This is Nathan Prescott, after all.

 

The room grows quiet. Max takes this as a signal that it was safe and slowly opens her eyes and takes a peek at the person in front of her. His head was hanging low between his stretched arms and if her mind is not currently playing tricks on her, the boy is sobbing. The sight of it stuns her. Never in her lifetime did she imagine that she would witness the Blackwell king emotionally breaking down in front of her. She feels the grip on her shoulders loosen. He withdraws his arms and hangs it loose on his sides.

 

Max is at a loss. She does not know what to do. If it were a close friend of hers, she would envelop them in a warm embrace to comfort them. But this was Nathan Prescott. Every time a person touched him, he would return the favor with a choke-hold or a head-butt. She reaches out a hand and pulls it away as quickly as she could, afraid that the Prescott heir might suddenly bite.

 

She hears faint whimpers. She comes closer to him, albeit slowly and carefully as if approaching a rabid wild animal. Max tucks some strands of lose hair behind her hair, believing that the gesture would make her hear properly.

 

"He- he killed me," he chokes-"of  course, he would. Who am I kidding? I am worthless piece of shit. Everybody just uses me. Everyone hates me. They hate me. They hate me. They hate me."

 

His words are a searing iron to her chest. She pushes all her fears away and wraps the boy in her arms. He doesn't move. Its as if he doesn't even notice. He continues to murmur under his breath.

 

"-hate-"

 

"-everybody-"

 

"-worthless-"

 

Max cannot make out the words anymore. She tightens her arms around his shoulders. After a while, she feels him lean into her.

 

"I am so sorry," she whispers, "I am so sorry I couldn't save you." She feels hot tears trickling down her cheeks.

 

~~~

 

By the time she opens her eyes, golden sunlight has filled her room. She's resigned to the fact that she will never make it to her first class. And the truth is, she didn't want to either. She stretches and sits up and is met by a Nathan Prescott sitting on her couch, waiting for her to wake up, it seems. She jumps a bit from the surprise and then she remembers tucking him to sleep on her couch last night. The memory makes her laugh a bit. Max Caulfield tucking Nathan Prescott to sleep.

 

His eyes are red and puffy but he looks as calm as the ocean. Max instantly feels the guilt tugging at her chest. She sits properly at the side of her bed, hands on her knees.

 

"I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to- uh-" she hesitates and waits to be interrupted. She isn't. "There is something I need to tell you."

 

The boy lays motionless on her couch, just staring at her. Max was tempted to wave a hand in front of his face to make sure that he was there with her. He blinks and it was enough indication for her to continue.

 

"I need to kill Mr. Jefferson."

 

His eyebrows crease but he doesn't say a thing. She proceeds to tell the story of her bargain with the ravens.

 

She swallows the lump that has formed in her throat. She doesn't know how Nathan would react after letting him know that she had to kill the only person he trusts in this universe. She was preparing herself for a tantrum, for a repeat, perhaps, of last night. But this time, she was going to be cautious with every word. She fiddles with her fingers in anticipation to the boy's response.

 

He looks at her, Max thinks she was mistaken but the boy grins weakly as he gave his reply.

 

"Okay."


	9. Sacrifice

She has just finished speaking with Stella and has entered the vicinity. The red and purple flashing lights instantly blind her and the music is drilling a hole in her skull. The smell of alcohol and chlorine is jabbing at her nostrils and is in the process of making her stomach turn. Max cannot believe the school allowed the Vortex club to have their party in the gym. A swimming pool and a bunch of drunk kids can't be a good combination, can it?

She hangs her head low and walks as carefully as she can among the raving party-goers, holding on to the strap of her messenger bag like her life depended on it. She stops meters away from the VIP section and finds herself a wall that has not yet been desecrated to lean on while she waits. Max draws out her phone, making sure she had not missed a call or text from her accomplice. There is none. Good. Although, a confirmation that he was doing okay would have been nice.

He was never quite the same after last night. They spent most of the morning earlier concocting a plan and to Max's surprise, he was very cooperative. Of course, he did not speak in a manner that was enthusiastic but he made sure to point out critical elements during their discussion. He digested every suggestion Max thought of and threw out questions that made her realize how truly incapable she is in, well, plotting murder. She did not know if she should admire the boy or steer clear from him. It was nearing lunchtime when the both of them have completed the arduous task. He left her room without garnering any unwanted attention but not before bidding Max goodbye with the most forlorn smile she has ever seen. She returned the gesture with a grin of her own in an effort to mask the mass of guilt that settled in her chest.

 

"Hey Max!"

 

Her heart leaps at the sound of her name and she directs her attention to the unknown source. It was Warren.

 

"Welcome to the End of the World!" he exclaims as he rests one hand on Max's shoulder and waves another in the air, holding on to a red cup.

 

Max smiles and comments on his sluggish movements, "Dude, have you been drinking?"

 

"Well, if you consider half a beer drinking..." He proceeds to lean on the wall right beside Max. "Hey Max, I know this is quite sudden but can I get one picture?"

 

She doesn't refuse and brings out her camera from her bag. He takes it from her hand and puts one arm around her shoulders. Warren puts a distance between them and the camera and clicks, a flash and a whirr confirming the success of the short endeavor. Max pulls the photo out of her esteemed Polaroid camera and gives it a couple of shakes before handing it to her friend.

"Sweet!" The wide grin on the boy's face as he reaches out for the photo warps into a grimace when he feels bile rising in his throat. His cheeks turn into small balloons and he seals his lips with his free hand.

 

"Are you sure you just had half a beer?" Max inquires, rubbing his back. She doesn't get an answer. The boy sprints to the men's room leaving her alone with the photo. She wants to follow to make sure that her friend was fine but stops mid-step when she remembers she had to stay put. She turns her eyes to the entrance of the VIP room, hoping that the Blackwell King would make an appearance soon. She scans the other areas of the gym and searches for him among the crowd. She couldn't tell if he's really not around at the moment or if the atmosphere prevented her from recognizing her target. She bites her lips and decides to finally send Nathan a text message to confirm his whereabouts.

She allows a couple of minutes for a reply. When she gets none, she lets her impatience win and starts marching toward the VIP area. A few rewinds later, she is walking amidst the royalty of the Vortex Club. To her dismay, the king was nowhere to be found. She spies the queen from a distance and despite her strong dislike for the young woman, she approaches her and prays that for once, she could be of help to her.

 

"Sorry, Max. Vortex Club members only," the blonde blurts out right away once she discovers who had just interrupted her. Max doesn't feel like sassing Victoria today so she goes straight to the point and asks about Nathan. One of Victoria's carefully groomed eyebrow shoots up but she answers honestly anyway.

 

"I haven't seen him here in the party." Creases form on Max's brow.  _He's supposed to be here_.

 

"When did you last see him?" she inquires, worry laced in her tone.

 

""Why are you-"

 

"Just answer the question, Victoria!" the freckled teenager argues, "It's-it's an emergency." She quickly amends the latter part of her statement after sensing the shift in the other girl's mood. The notion that her best friend is needed for an emergency seemed to convince her enough to cooperate.

 

"I saw him at his room this afternoon. What's going on, Max?" The brunette is gone before an interrogation could occur.

 

~~~

 

The room is pitch black, not even the projector is flashing the images she saw when she last "visited". She clicks the switch hoping to find him curled up in some corner, napping or whatever. Her lips form a frown when the lights reveal nothing but an empty bedroom. She takes a look at her phone once again only to feel annoyed when she sees that there is still no messages from the boy. The brunette takes a seat on the presumably expensive couch and dials Nathan's number. Her numerous attempts are met with failure.

She places her elbows on her knees and rests her forehead against the heel of her hand. _Could he have backed out?_ , the young woman queries. The thought stings but Max sincerely wishes in her heart that that was indeed the case and nothing else. She wishes that the missing Prescott didn't go out to do something incredibly impulsive and stupid on his own. She wishes he is nowhere near Jefferson and is just hanging out some place, smoking on something illegal (although she wishes he wasn't doing that as well.) But most of all, she wishes that he would just let her know that he is safe. She lets out a frustrated grunt and hits her knees with her small fists. Her eyes wander for a minute and a small white rectangle posted on the wall captures her attention.

She moves closer and realizes it is a photo, a photo of her. Her eyes grow wide and warmth spreads on her cheeks as she recognizes it as one of the photos on her own wall. The confused girl tries to piece how the boy could have possibly swiped it without her noticing it. She concludes that it must have been last night when she dozed off for a second while he was busy investigating her room. She extends her fingers to pry it off the wall and is determined to reprimand the boy later on for stealing it. That is, if they do meet later on. The thought makes her pause. Suddenly, her phone rings, his name flashing across the screen. It took no longer than a second for her to press the accept button.

"Max-" was the only thing he manages to utter before the sound of a gunshot rips through from the other line. Max opens her mouth to call out to him but is interrupted by a series of noises. She hears a maniacal laughter, what sounds like shattering glass, a few more gunshots, a thud, and finally, silence. Every passing second of the stillness felt like a century to the paralyzed girl. She draws a sharp breath when the quiet is broken by the sound of something dragging through the floor. Someone picks up the phone and their ragged breathing is the only thing Max could hear. She swallows, not sure if she should speak up.

 

 

"Max?"

 

Her vision spins for a second and her lungs expel all the breath she couldn't release for the last agonizing minute when she hears his voice. Her relief is cut short however, and panic begins to seep in when her brain starts forming images of what could have transpired on his side of the line. She couldn't conceal it in her voice when she asks where he is.

 

 

"Dark-" he coughs-"room."

 

~~~

 

It took her quite a while to track Warren for his car and drive all the way to the middle of nowhere. The amount of dread filling every inch of her body made the drive excruciating. She might have had broken a speed limit or two along the way trying to get there. When she sees the red pick-up truck and black sedan, she silently thanks her memory for not failing her at a very critical moment. She hops out of the car, leaving the ignition on, and runs towards the door to the hidden bunker underneath the abandoned barn.  

Mark Jefferson is lying down on a pool of blood on the white tiled floor of his Dark Room. The man's eyes are wide open and his lips are parted. His body is surrounded by shards of broken debris, all soaked in blood as well. His limbs lay in an angle that doesn't seem natural to her. Despite what the corpse of this evil man means for her and Arcadia Bay, Max couldn't bring herself to feel what she is supposed to feel. All she could feel at the moment is the churning of her stomach as it tries to push out its contents through her mouth. She presses her lips with her hand and holds on to her belly with the other. It takes a moment for the sickness to subside. When it does, she takes another look at the body in front of her. Her eyes follow the way his arm is twisted and in his hand, she sees a black pistol. She prays that none of the bullets had left its barrel.

She scans the rest of the room for a certain person she has been dying to see since the party. Her mind goes blank when she is met by the image of Nathan Prescott's motionless body on the other end of the room. Her feet begins to move on its own towards him. Once she reaches him, her knees collapse under her. Her hands, just like her feet, starts moving on its own and before she knows it, she is cradling him in her arms. The blood on his stomach makes her throat close up and her vision blur. When she notices the subtle rising and dipping of his chest, the suffocating tightness in hers loosens up a little. She attempts to speak but could not form complete sentences.

"Nathan, what did you- how did this- why would-"

The young Prescott blinks and directs his gaze at the crying girl. He acknowledges her presence with a smile that feels as if it took all the energy in his body to do so. The strenuous gesture silences her and prompts her eyes to gush globs of tears down her cheeks. She let's go of Nathan and fishes for her phone from her bag. The trembling made it difficult for her to hold on to it. She steadies it with her other hand and brings the device right in front of her face, only to be interrupted by what feels like an ocean of tears in her eyes. She wipes it off with the end of her jacket sleeve, clearing her vision, and opens the phone's dial screen. 9-1-

A bloody hand grabs her phone and pulls it down. The boy on her lap tightens his lips and shakes his head ever so slightly. Her face falls at Nathan's act of resignation. "No." The word leaves her lips without thought. She lets go of her phone and wraps her arms around the boys shoulders. She rests her cheek on his forehead as she continues chanting the word "no" in between chokes and sobs.

An hour has passed when Max finds herself to be the only breathing thing in that wretched room. She doesn't know when Nathan left her but she thinks it has been quite a while. When she tries to shut his eyelids, it felt cold against her fingertips. His eyelids wouldn't stay put either. It would always return to it's half-open state, leaving part of his blue eyes exposed. She instead resorts to touching his eyelashes. She's never noticed how long it actually is. Maybe later, she'd mention it to him and ask if he got it from his mom or dad. She makes one last swiping motion on his lashes and directs her attention to her photography teacher's decaying body.

She feels something dark and heavy bubbling inside her. She thinks that whatever it is, it will be the key to sweeping away all her uncertainties and to doing what she must. She opens her bag and empties its contents on the floor. She picks up a photo of her and her drunk friend and begins to focus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'd just like to say that WRITING IS REALLY HARD. I salute all the people out there who are really passionate with their written works! Thank you so much for your contribution to the world! I just had to get that out of my system because writing these emotionally charged scenes lately have been doing a number on me. How do people keep doing this?? Why did I ever think I could write a fanfic like this?? Am I even doing it right??
> 
> Also, happy holidays guys!


	10. Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year guys! Hope you enjoy this one!

That heavy dark cloud that had descended upon him since his visit to Max's dorm room never left. He thought that deciding to do the right thing for once would stir something "good" in him, that all the thoughts and emotions that tormented him ever since he reached an age of responsibility would be driven away by whatever good people felt when they do heroic things. But all that decision did is put him in more torment.

Usually, he wouldn't go down without a fight. He will utilize everything in his power before deciding to relent to that feeling of agony. Partying, drinking, consuming illegal substances, it all did its job of granting him moments of immunity to his own pain. It wouldn't last, of course. And it irritated him that the effects of his efforts wouldn't even last for more than a day. Once he feels it slowly creeping into his system, he heads out and repeats the cycle.

When his mentor arrived in Arcadia Bay, he didn't think his attachment to him would come to be as it is now. A simple compliment from the man could shut out the dark thoughts in him for weeks. And even though he continued with the partying and the drinking, it no longer was an act of escape. It became an act of celebration. And, sure, each girl they hurt would add to the pile of guilt he unwillingly sheltered but a "job well done" from the esteemed photographer made it all worth it. Somehow, he found a purpose in Mark Jefferson.

And now, he is tasked to help murder the man. The only person that made him feel normal despite everything that is wrong with him. He tried so hard to ignore that gnawing feeling that he was nothing more than a means to an end. But Max Caulfield just had to blow away all his hard work and confirm how the one authority figure in his life that he respected never truly cared for him. God, the universe must really hate him so bad that they send the most fucked-up man in the world to fuck his fucked-up life even more.

But then again, the universe sent him Max Caulfield. He knows he has expressed his contempt towards the task of keeping her alive but the newfound responsibility gave him a sense of purpose, a better one than Mark gave him. He would never admit it to her or any living being but being needed made him feel so alive. And the fact that it was Max Caulfield that he had to protect, it made his chest flutter. The brunette was kind and caring and it felt like a privilege to- wait- a privilege? Kind? Caring? What in the world is he saying? This isn't the time to-

 

"Nathan!"

 

The sudden outburst makes him jump. When he realizes the intruder was his best friend, he glances down on the polaroid photo in his hand that he has unwittingly been staring at and quickly hides it  under the pillow he is leaning on. He straightens up and crosses his arms, hoping Victoria is not too observant.

 

"You weren't at first period." She walks over to him and sits at the foot of his bed. "You alright? Having a bad day?"

 

He knew that tone and it amazes him sometimes how Vic could be such a bitch to some people and such a supportive friend to some. And as if on queue, his stomach grumbles. Victoria raises an eyebrow.

 

"You haven't had lunch?"

 

Nathan shakes his head.

 

"Meds?"

 

He presses his lips together and shifts his eyes away from her, like a child caught in the act. The blonde girl sighs and stands up to leave.

 

"I'll get you a sandwich," she says as she turns the door knob.

 

"Thanks."

 

"If you're not feeling too good, stay in bed. Don't worry about the party. I got it." Victoria walks out the door.

 

~~~

 

Nathan is lying down on his bed, one arm on his forehead, the other reaching out on his bedside table. His hand lands on his half-eaten sandwich, on some crumpled-up papers and finally, on his phone. He draws it near to his face and checks the time. The End of the World party has started. He drops the phone on his chest and heaves a sigh.

He cannot untangle the mess that is his thoughts. The young Prescott has been spending the time thinking if he should proceed with the plan. He knows it'd be such a dick move to back out now but the thought of Max in the Dark room makes his innards squirm. There must be a way for Arcadia Bay to get what it wants without putting her in harm's way. He'd hate to get stuck in a loop again. That's totally the only reason he doesn't want the pixie hipster hurt. No other reason at all.

Maybe Arcadia Bay won't care who does it as long as the job is done. If that's the case, then there's no cause for Max to be anywhere near that man. He can do it himself, can't he? If there's one thing he's good at, it's hurting other people. And if he fucks up then- fuck, he can't fuck up. He can't. He can't.

He rises and heads to his study table. He retrieves his prized pistol from one of the drawers and tucks it securely at the back of his pants. He swallows the lump in his throat and a deep breath. He marches to the door and pulls it open, only to be met by a panting Max Caulfield, just about to knock.

She puts a hand on his chest and gently pushes him back inside his room. The gesture catches him by surprise that he does not resist. He waits for an explanation for this unexpected meeting. But when the girl finally catches her breath, she does not speak. She gazes at him with an intensity that made Nathan so uncomfortable, it made him throw the first question.

 

"What are you doing here? I was about to-"

 

"We had a plan." Her words escape her lips through gritted teeth. Nathan detects the anger in her voice despite her efforts to conceal it. Before he could answer, she trots toward him and hits him on the chest with a balled fist. She follows it with another. When the boy doesn't respond, she continued to throw a barrage of hits at him while muttering things that he could not understand. The mousy girl's show of violence shocks Nathan that it takes him a couple of seconds before ending her fit of rage by catching both her wrists in his hands.

 

"What the fuck, Caulfield!" His instinct to repay the girl's insolent actions with his wrath dies out when he realizes she is weeping.

 

"We had a plan! We had a goddamn plan, Nathan!" Her voice cracks. "For once in your life, can you be a little less selfish?"

 

His confusion is interrupted by the sight of something black sliding down under her nose. Nathan lets go of her wrists and lifts his thumb towards the space above her lips. But Max beats him to it and wipes the liquid off with the back of her hand. Embarrassed, he withdraws his hand and looks away. He suddenly remembers the conversation they had at the beach and makes the connection.

 

"You-" he narrows his eyes-"did you rewind?"

 

His question was answered with sobs. It unsettles him. Whatever happened to Max couldn't have been good. Did something go wrong? Did he mess it all up? Did- did the fucker touch her? The thought makes his stomach drop. He gulps and tries to muster the courage to ask. He doesn't want to know but he felt the need to.

 

"What happened?" he whispers. Each tear on the girl's face felt like a stab to his chest.

 

She purses her lips in an effort to stop crying. She wipes the tears off her eyes and cheeks with both hands in a hurry, as if ashamed for putting up such a show of weakness. 

 

"Max?"

 

"He- uh-" she clears her throat- "he- you-" Max hiccups- "you died."

 

Nathan creases his eyebrows. "Oh."

 

Max turns her head to the young Prescott, surprised by his response. Even the Prescott himself is surprised by his lack of shock at her revelation. For some reason, his death doesn't sound like something threatening anymore. It worried him a bit. Did a part of him in the last 12 hours accepted he that his fate is bound to be grim?  But more importantly, why is Max crying over him? That can't be the only reason she's emotional, can it?

 

"Did Mark got away?" he inquires. That must be it. That must be why she's here.

 

Max shakes her head. "No, you got him." 

 

He gapes at the freckled brunette in front of him and rakes his hair as he tries to makes sense of what he just heard. He sits on his couch.

 

Max takes a step closer. "Nathan, I need you to promise me that you'll stick to the plan. We can't-"

 

"Max," the disconcerted Prescott interrupts, "Why did you come back?"

 

She gives him a look and sits on the other end of the sofa. A look that said _isn't it obvious?_

 

"You- you died. You didn't have to die." Her voice is almost pleading.

 

"It's-"he hesitates and sighs-"it's fine, Max. It's-"

 

"No, it's not fine!" she retorts, hands clenched tightly around the straps of her messenger bag. "No one else has to die for that motherfucker!"

 

Her rage unsettles him for a second. He leans back and puts a hand over his eyes. "I'm just really tired of all this."

 

He wishes she understands what that statement truly means. He hopes that she understands that there is no future for him once they take down the one thing in his life that somehow keeps him together. It pained him to think so but it was the truth. Letting him die is definitely not a punishment.

A warmth over his hand halts his thoughts. He looks down and sees Max's hand holding on tightly to his. He blinks and  slides his eyes to her face. She isn't looking at him and instead is staring intently at their hands.

 

"We can do this." Her eyes are in the verge of pushing out tears once again. "Please trust me."

 

~~~

 

The drive to the barn felt like it took longer than it should. The air between the two Blackwell students felt heavy to the Prescott heir. His finger is tapping the steering wheel and Max is staring out at her window, cheek resting on her palm. Nathan is racking his brain for something to break the silence. After a few more taps and some subtle glances at Max's directions, he mentally gives up. Maybe now is not the time to make small talk.

 

"You have long eyelashes," she blurts out.

 

He shoots a side glance at his companion, surprised by the random remark. He hasn't really noticed his eyelashes before. His lips part to reply but he doesn't know what to say. So he seals his lips shut and hope to god that the brunette doesn't think that he is ignoring her on purpose. He winces at the thought as he makes a sharp turn to the right.

 

"Who did you get it from? Your mom?"

 

Wrinkles form on his face as he tries to understand the reason for the topic. He dismisses it as maybe something Max just truly pulled out of nowhere. But why his eyelashes? To notice someone's lashes, you'd have to be looking at their eyes,right? It felt too intimate for the Prescott heir. He shudders. He looks sideways again at Max. She is looking at him, waiting for a reply.

 

"I don't know. Yeah, from my mom, I guess." Nathan shrugs.

 

Max nods and grins. She goes back to staring out the window.

 

He bites his lip and contemplates for a minute. He coughs and clears his throat in a flimsy attempt to garner Max's attention. He doesn't know if it works but he starts speaking.

 

"Max, listen. I'm-" he silently emits a quick breath-"I'm sorry. About everything."

 

His eyes are glued to the road. He wouldn't look to his right.

 

"What I did to Kate, Rachel, Chloe, everyone. I'm really sorry."

 

He isn't blinking and he begins to feel some pricking in his eyes.

 

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

 

The lump in his throat is making it difficult to breathe.

 

"God, I'm a fucking idiot. I'm-" he heaves a long sigh. He lets a few seconds go by before continuing.

 

"I'm glad that for once, I get to save someone, you know?" He hates how is voice is cracking. "I'm glad it's you."

 

His palms are sweating. His throat is closing up. His chest is throbbing. He feels his face turn hot.

 

"Thank you for- I don't know- not hating me, I guess."

 

His jaws clench from the uncertainty. He isn't really sure if the girl does not hate him. But if she does, he hopes she corrects him right now. Nathan gathers the courage to slightly turn his head towards the direction of the quiet girl. She is pressing her lips together, her hands entwined, eyes focused on a random space. _Come on, please say something_ , he mentally pleads.

 

"I'm glad that I get to save you too."

 

His breath hitches. Max doesn't hate him. She doesn't. He feels his eyes stinging but he forbids himself from tearing up in front of Max Caulfield again. He concludes the conversation with a loud sniff instead. It makes her smile.

 

~~~

 

Nathan turns left and the two teenagers find themselves in an abandoned barn. They scan the area for a black sedan and is relieved to see no other vehicle but theirs. He drives closer but suddenly hits the brake when groups of ravens fly away from the ground, as if to get out of his way. He doesn't remember if there has always been this many birds here before. He parks his truck and kills the ignition. The two of them are quiet for a while. He glances at Max who he realizes has grown pale as a sheet. His chest aches once again. He wishes Max would just let him do this on his own.

 

"You ready?" he asks with a tone filled with concern.

 

"No."

 

"Maybe we should-"

 

"Let's go." She pulls the door handle. But before she could swing the door wide open and step down, beams of light suddenly appear from behind them. Nathan turns as pale as Max. Fuck.

 

"He's not supposed to be here yet." he says, not hiding  the distress in his voice. "W-What do we do?"

 

Max seems just as agitated as he was. Her eyes are darting back and forth, perhaps contemplating on a course of action. The headlights are turned off and Nathan sees his professor getting out of the car. His pulse increase and he feels beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck.

 

"I'll pretend to be unconscious. We'll figure out the rest when we get to the Dark room," She explains as quickly as she can. She puts her seatbelt back on and lowers the back of her seat.

 

"What? No! Max-"

 

Jefferson pulls the door to the passenger's seat wide open.

 

"Ah, here she is." A wide grin appears on the photographer's face. "Well done, Nathan."

 

He freezes, unsure of what to do. He lowers his eyes and sees a seemingly unconscious Max before him, eyes shut, lips slightly parted. The older man reaches out for the end of her seat belt and unbuckles it. He puts an arm behind the girl's back, another under her legs, and pulls her out of the truck and closer to his chest. 

 

"I'll take it from here. You can go." He walks away and heads for the hidden bunker, Max Caulfield in his arms.

 

Nathan licks his lips and takes a few deep breaths. He reaches out for the dashboard compartment and pulls it open. He extracts his gun and tucks it in the back of his pants. The boy hops down his pick-up truck and prays to whatever higher power there is out there that he does not fuck this up. He does not see the ravens perched upon the surrounding trees, waiting patiently.

 


	11. Failure

Her heart is drumming furiously against her ribcage. It hurts not being able to breathe in tune with how fast her heartbeat is, but it was critical that she lie motionless and show no signs of anxiety. She feels the pressure on her throat and thought of what she’d give just to be able to swallow that lump right now. But when a slight movement means death, a moment of relief will have to wait.

She does not know what consumed her when she decided to “improvise”. Was it courage? Was it madness? What it the need to do something heroic? Whatever she thought it was, she knows now that her actions were that of foolishness. The fright in Nathan’s eyes when she declared her insane plan in the spur of the moment should have deterred her. It was unfair of her to expect him to know what to do next. If anything happened to him because of her lapse in judgment, it would be difficult not to hate herself even more.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Each step is louder than the last. Despite the darkness that Max is currently in, she knows that there is a man in front of her. She is seated on a on a one-seat sofa and her head is hanging low, eyes sealed shut. Her abductor pulls one of her arms resting on her lap and carefully positions it on an armrest. She hears the sound of tape being stripped. Her fingers start to tremble and she prays that he doesn’t notice.

“Get away from her!”

The sound of his voice almost makes her look up.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jefferson hisses after a brief pause.

“Get away from her!” The intruder repeats.

The room grows silent, so silent that Max dares open her eyes. The red and purple lights that enter her vision make her eyes sting. She blinks a couple of times before her eyesight adjusts. The brunette lifts her head by an inch to take a glimpse of the current situation. She sees Jefferson’s back. Both his hands are raised up.

“Nathan, calm down.” He takes one small step forward. “Let’s talk about this. Don’t do anything rash.” He takes another step.

“Stay back!” The younger man’s threatening retort was enough to stop the photography teacher in his tracks. Max moves her head subtly to the side to glance at her accomplice. He is standing at the other end of the room, aiming a gun at their photography professor with a tenacity that surprises her. However, his contorted face, his defensive stance, and his trembling hands remind her of that time at the ladies room. Although she is glad that he has come to her aid, it saddened her that she had roped him into this ugly scene where he had to wear that facade again. 

She slides her eyes to some shelves located to her left in search for an item that Jefferson had used to protect himself against David in another timeline. She steadily rises from her seat, careful not to make a sound. She crouches and starts advancing towards the desired object. Max freezes when the older man begins speaking.

“Nathan, listen to me. I won’t hurt Max. You know I wouldn’t do that.” The tone in his voice makes something boil in Max’s gut.

“You liar! You killed Rachel!” Nathan's voice cracks.

“What YOU did was an accident-“ the words slither through gritted teeth-“We won’t make the same mistake this time. Put down the gun and let me teach you.” His voice shifts to a softer tone. Max resumes her attempt towards the shelves.

“Teach me? All you did was used me!”

She is almost there.

“I’m sorry that I made you feel used but I assure you that you aren’t. “ Jefferson is taking small steps towards Nathan and Max is grateful for the increasing distance between the photographer and her.

“You have a gift, Nathan. I can nurture that gift. Only I can see what your art truly means.”

She snaps her head to Nathan’s direction. She doesn’t know what prompted her to do so but when she catches his eyes, all she sees in the boy's face is longing, an urge to return to a place that felt like home. It scares her. The young Prescott blinks and notices Max. Terror spreads across his features, like a child caught in the act. His face falls, shame and guilt written all over it.  

The change in Nathan’s frame does not go unnoticed by the older man. He follows his gaze and turns to look at what has caught the young boy’s attention. But before he could do so, Max leaps for the hand gun resting on one of his shelves and fires it.

BANG

The recoil from the shot makes her lose her balance. The weapon suddenly feels like burning coals and an urgent need to release the loathsome object from her grasp overpowers Max. She lets go and pulls her hand towards her chest, as if it had just turned into something she cannot recognize, something vile and repulsive. The scream of her professor tears her attention away from the object of her disgust and makes her look at the result of her transgression. He is on his knees, clutching on to his left shoulder blade as blood trickles down to the floor. The sight paralyzes her and makes something in her stomach turn. Did she do this? Was it her? Did she really pull the trigger?

“Max!”

A gasp barely leaves her lips when an arm wraps around her neck from behind. She realizes that neither Jefferson nor the gun is anywhere in front of her. She struggles and digs her nails into the bloody arm in hopes of escaping, but when she feels a cold metal object pushed against her chin, she deflates. How could she have let this happen? How could she have been so careless?

~~~

His finger was ready to pull the trigger. He thought he had when the bang echoed through the room. And then he realized it wasn’t him. It was Max.

The distraught on her face when she dropped the gun made him want to snatch her and take her far away from this cursed place. He thinks he was even about to, but when Jefferson doesn’t drop dead like he was supposed to, he repositions his pistol to end this ordeal. A second doesn’t even pass when the opportunity to do so abruptly leaves him. The injured man jumps for the gun on the floor, grabs Max by the neck and aims his weapon at her. The panic that surfaces in her eyes is reflecting that of Nathan’s.

“Put the gun down, Nathan,” he growls.

Nathan doesn’t move. He is staring intently at Max, pleading for some semblance of instruction. It makes him feel pathetic, how unreliable he is.

“Put the gun down or I blow her head off!”

He takes one step back, frightened by Jefferson’s outburst, but he doesn’t move his arms.

His mind is a swirling swamp of thoughts and emotions. He bites his lips, trying hard to come up with a solution, but his inability to calm his head renders him useless. His eyes water out of frustration. Once again, he has proven himself an idiotic good-for-nothing that ruins everything that comes his way. When will this streak of misfortunes ever end? This is why everybody hates him. This is why he shouldn't-

“Nathan, let him shoot me!” Her scream pierces through his thoughts. “Just run!”

_What? Run?_

“You’re not going anywhere.” Jefferson unfolds his arm and aims the handgun at him.

The sound of a gunshot makes Nathan flinch and look away, bracing for impact. He parts his eyes and searches for a hole in his body, but to his surprise, there is none. He lifts his eyes and sees Jefferson seated on the ground, a hand covering a bloody nose, and Max, a hand at the back of her head, the other removing the older man’s arm around her, scrambling to get up. Once she was free, she dashes towards his direction and grabs him by the arm.

“Run!”

Cold and darkness greets them the moment they set foot out of the bunker. Nathan could only see as far as where the light from the Dark Room hits. The two teenagers run straight ahead anyway, knowing that the barn’s front doors are wide open. The young Prescott looks back and regrets it instantly when he stumbles over a wooden crate. He curses and begins rummaging the floor for the pistol that flew from his grip. When Max sprints back and stands behind him, he ceases his search and turns to tell her to run and leave him. He freezes at the sight of the figure of his photography teacher, silhouetted by the bright light behind him, visibly pointing a gun. He cannot see his face but he knows that he is smiling his psychopathic smile of his. Jefferson laughs.

“You think you can make a fool out of me and just run?” He cocks the gun.

Nathan’s eyes dart between Max and Jefferson. It pained him to be where he was right now, shielded by the girl who cared enough to return in time to keep him alive. He doesn’t deserve such a noble gesture. If someone had to go tonight, it definitely wasn’t going to be Max. He mentally apologizes to the young woman in front of him for wasting a trip back in time and resigns to his grim fate. He reaches out and places his hand on her shoulder, ready to pull her aside.

Jefferson suddenly falls to the ground.

“What?” the dumbfounded professor whispers as he kneads one side of his head. The two teenagers are staring at him, trying to comprehend what just happened.

He tries to stand up when a black blur hits the other side of his head. The impact sends him reeling back to the ground. Nathan grabs Max’s elbow and tugs her closer to him, afraid of what was going on. The blur appears again and hits the older man on his cheek, leaving a bloody cut. Jefferson squeals. Soon the blurs descend on him one after another. The man flails his arms in an attempt to halt the unseen attackers. He hits nothing but air. He fires his handgun, hoping it would at least scare them, but it seems it only angered them even more. They return the gunshots with furious squawks and fervent attacks. Black feathers hover in the air.

“We have to go!”

The yank on Nathan’s arm draws his attention back to his companion. She begins running to where his truck is parked, glancing back for a second to check if he was following. His legs start to move. He takes one last look at his mentor and is horrified by how he is almost unrecognizable, blood running down his face. He gulps and runs as fast as he could away from the wild creatures, determined not to be their next victim.

Max calls out to him from the driver’s seat. He hops into the passenger’s seat and fumbles for his keys in his jacket pockets. He flings it to the brunette and she starts the ignition. Max puts the vehicle in reverse and floors the pedal, not a care for whatever she might hit. She shifts it to drive and heads straight for the main road, leaving a cloud of dust. Nathan sees a group of ravens above them, as if guiding them where to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These last chapters have been quite a struggle but I hope I'm doing well enough. Again, thank you for the kudos and comments! <3


	12. Regroup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a while but i finally managed. Enjoy!

"Max, what are we doing here-"

She hops out of the truck, not bothering to shut the ignition. His eyes follow the distraught girl as she makes her way to the trail leading to the lighthouse. He reaches out for his keys and pulls it out before jumping out of the vehicle himself. He mimics the brunette and draws out his phone to act as a flashlight through the trek. Nathan proceeds to climb the trail as fast as he could.

When he arrives, panting for breath, he finds her kneeling dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. He runs for her and pulls her back a good few meters while berating her lack of sanity at the moment. He realizes she is sobbing and decides to tone down his distress at her erratic behavior. She places her hands on her face, shoulders shaking from the intensity of her sobbing. It made him ache. He gives in and wraps her with his arms, one hand on her back, the other on the back of her head. His eyes water.

 

"I can't do it," she whispers after a choke. "I can't. It's too much"

 

The sorrow he felt for his companion was replaced by an urgent need to destroy the beings who put Max Caulfield in this struggle. He couldn't care less about Arcadia Bay and its spirit guardians or whatever the hell they are. This town has only put him through the most miserable of affairs throughout  his life. If they want to demolish it with a monstrous hurricane, they are very much welcome to do so. But couldn't they just leave Max out of it? Out of this stupid solution they have come up with to redeem Arcadia Bay? Why her? Why?

He feels her shift within his embrace. He loosens his grasp, ready to put down his extremities albeit unwillingly, when he feels her arms snake past his waist and onto his back, pressing himself closer to her. Despite the alarming situation they have just come out of, he cannot help but succumb to the spreading warmth on his cheeks and the increased thrumming in his chest. He feels the weight of her head on his shoulder as she leans in, the sobs growing weaker. He reciprocates the gesture and lowers his head so he was close enough to rest his face on her shoulder. She smelled like flowers and wide open fields.

 

"Caw!"

 

The squawk breaks the two teenagers apart. A raven is perched atop the bench behind them, tilting its head as if curious as to what was going on. Nathan steps forward and raises an arm in front of Max in an effort to defend her from the creature. The debacle earlier with their photography professor has planted a bad image of these black birds in his mind. He feels a hand on his arm. Nathan looks back at Max and takes a couple of seconds before reluctantly putting it down after the girl makes the request.

 

"I came here to renegotiate," she declares with as much confidence as she could muster after a session of weeping.

 

The ravens tilts its head to the other side.

 

Max hangs her head low. "I can't kill him." Nathan purses his lips at the sight of her face and the sound of her voice.

 

The bird straightens itself up and seemed to double in size when its feathers begin standing on its end. Nathan takes a step back, shocked at how a bird can look this menacing.

 

"There must be some other way!" The girl pleads.

 

Suddenly, the wind starts to pick up. Dried leaves begin to fly into the air as the breeze grows stronger. It makes the young Prescott look up. His attention shifts from the leaves to the flashes of light flaring one after the other behind the black clouds. Soon, streaks of lightning begins adorning the night sky. The moon and stars were nowhere to be found. He feels a drop of water on his cheek. As soon as he wipes it off, rain starts pouring.

"Please!" The time traveller begs. She drops on her knees in front of the bird. "Please don't do this!" Her plea was answered with a howl from the surging wind. Nathan clenches his fist and turns his eyes on the raven, glaring at it with hatred. He hears a whimper from Max's direction and tears his gaze away from the bird to crouch down beside her. He puts a hand on her shoulder and it prompts her to look at him. Once again, her eyes were red and filled with tears. "I failed."

 _No_ , he thought. He cups her cheek, a thumb attempting to wipe the tears away from the edge of her eye. He can't stand it. He can't stand to see her in this much pain. She doesn't deserve this. She had tried so hard to hold her end of the bargain despite the immense strain on her. He wants to rip the motherfucking birds apart for bestowing such an insane amount of responsibility on her. This stupid arrangement was hardly fair.

But it seems that there was no reasoning with them, their stubbornness evident in the brewing storm. He looks back at the raven.

 

"I'll do it." It catches both the bird and Max's attention.

 

He lets go of the weeping brunette and rises to his feet. "Let me finish the job."

 

The winds die down a little and the torrent turns into a light rain. Nathan takes it as a good sign.

 

~~~

 

The rain continued to pour down as the two adolescents drove back to Blackwell. They have argued earlier as to where they should regroup. The young Prescott insisted that they head to his family's home, confident that their employed security will keep them out of the reach of their photography teacher. Max thought it made sense but after her monumental failure, she preferred to return to the comfort of her dormitory room and sulk over the ugly events that unfolded that night. She tried to convince him that Jefferson would not be so stupid as to attack them there in the middle of the school. When she saw that Nathan was not going to back down on his proposal, she offered a compromise. He can drop her at Blackwell, then he can head back to his own house. His face fell. He did not utter another word.

Nathan's offer to complete the task assigned to her evoked mixed feelings in her. She was embarrassed at how someone else had to step up for her lack of success.  But she was relieved that someone did. It meant Chloe stayed alive and her childhood home stays in tact. She was conflicted, however, at how that courageous volunteer was none other than the King of Blackwell. There was this tugging at her chest at the thought of him getting hurt because of her incompetence. Why couldn't some stranger do all this for them instead? Preferably, someone she doesn't care about. She blinked at the sudden thought, realizing that she cared for Nathan Prescott, _**the** _ Nathan Prescott. When did that happen, she wondered.

When Max found Nathan getting out of the truck after her, she was surprised. But what surprised her even more is that she was pleased by the boy's gesture. She thought she wanted some alone time but the prospect of not being too far apart from him somehow cheered her up.  The two ran through the rain as quickly as they can towards the dormitory, soaking wet by the time they arrived by the doors. She takes a glance at her accomplice, wondering if he only plans of accompanying her here before returning to his truck. He doesn't leave. Instead, Nathan opens the door and heads towards the staircase. Max follows suit, pursing her lips to stifle the smile forming on her tired face.

He stops at front of Max's room and waits for the girl to enter.

 

"Get some rest", the boy whispers before walking away.

 

Max rests her hand on the doorknob as she looks longingly at the Prescott heir walking further away from her. Before she knows it, she calls out to him. He stops and looks back, waiting for the reason of the interruption. She trots over to him.

 

"We should be together," says the brunette.

 

Nathan's eyes grow wide and despite the dim light that filled the girl's dormitory that late night, Max can make out the bright red that sweeps across his face. When she realizes what she had just blurted out, she feels the blood rush to her cheeks. She's probably just as red as the boy in front of her.

 

"I-I mean," she stammers, "stay together. We should stay together tonight. To be safe."

 

Her correction does not make it better. Nathan averts his gaze away and she does the same. What was wrong with her? Now was not the time to feel all fluttery and stupid. She parts her lips to say something but she found that her brain has lost the capacity to think straight. She attributes this moment of inarticulateness to the craziness of their evening.

 

"At your room?" Nathan inquires, eyes still nowhere on Max's face. "I have to get out of these clothes."

 

Max swallows. "Well, since I'm here, I could change and then we'll head to your room." She can't believe the words flowing from her mouth. She could hear her pulse throbbing and steadily increasing.

 

Nathan stares at her, eyes still as wide as saucers, cheeks as red as beets. He gulps and nods slightly. Max could not control her grin this time. She hurries back to her room and strips her wet clothes as quickly as she can. After patting herself dry, she puts on a tee and her usual short shorts. She swipes a pillow and a blanket from her bed and heads out. Max finds Nathan on the same spot, rubbing his nape, fidgeting where he stands. She approaches him and the sight of her seemed to startle him. The boy instantly marches towards the staircase without saying a word. The brunette scurries behind him.

When they arrive at front of his room, Max notices a hint of hesitation as he places his hand on the doorknob. For some reason, it disheartened her and made her conclude that perhaps she was overstepping her boundaries here. Even if both of their lives are in danger, it doesn't mean that they should sleep in the same room together, right? 

 

"Uh," Max whispers, "you know what? Maybe I should just go back. Sorry."

 

Disappointment showed on his face. It made her breath hitch. Her mind is going frantic. She hopes the boy stops her from leaving. To her delight, he does.

 

"No, stay. You're right. We have to stick together."

 

Max looks down and bites her lips, not wanting to show how glad she is.

 

Nathan turns the knob and swings the door open. He switches the light on when Max enters the room.

 

"Ouch, that's really brigh-"

 

She walks into Nathan's back. His shoulders are tense. She is about to ask what's wrong when she moves sideways and sees the reason for the sudden halt. Jefferson is sitting comfortably on one end of the couch, legs crossed, a gun in hand, aimed at their direction.

 

"Ah, I thought I miscalculated," the older man admits. "but here you both are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo I'm not entirely sure if it's weird or not to put some sort of fluff in the middle of a crisis but I've been reading the last chapters and I realized that the amount of anguish I've written is uh a lot a lot. Not that it's bad but it made me want to put something light in there to maybe depict the progress of their relationship? I do admit it's a bit of indulgent on my part haha i hope you enjoyed it anyway :)


	13. Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! OMG 200 kudos?! coming from a fandom that is barely active anymore 200 feels like a million! haha! THANK YOU!

Her fingers quiver in anticipation. _She could do it now_ , she thought. Her accomplice and her could be somewhere safe and sound in a second. All she had to do was extend an arm. All she had to do was-

 

"I didn't know you two were a couple," the esteemed photographer says, incredulity written all over his almost unrecognizable face.

 

Cuts that are either padded with thin white bandages or seamed shut by stitches that looked like it was done in a hurry marred the majority of his cheeks, brow, chin and neck, save for a long cut that ran diagonally across his forehead up to his ear. It seems to be held tight by a thick crust of dry blood instead. A good chunk of his nose is missing and the white of one of his eyes is coated in deep red. The white shirt he wears is clean but Max can make out some dark spots from open cuts here and there. This sight of it all made her skin crawl.

 

"If I've known, I wouldn't have involved you, Nathan," he spats.

 

"We're not," the boy replies, his voice a little bit too weak and small for a boy his age. His stiff frame leaps a bit when his mentor responds with laughter.

 

"Well, if that's any indication"-he points his pistol towards Max's direction, eyes on the pillow and blanket she is holding in her possession- "I'd say you were going to sleep together." He tilts his head to one side and lifts an eyebrow, sneering at the both of them.

 

Max keeps quiet. She slides her eyes to the back of Nathan's head and notes the stillness in his shoulders. He does not reply either. The silence prompts Jefferson to rise and stride towards them. Nathan quickly steps back, making sure Max is right behind him. It doesn't take more than a few steps before the older man is towering over the trembling boy. The back of his hand connects with his cheek and it sends him flying to one side of the room. Max drops her things out of fright at the sudden act of violence. She attempts to move closer to the boy reeling on the floor.

 

"Ah-ah" -Jefferson wags an index finger to her face- "Don't move a muscle, dear Max." He beams at her. "This will be over soon."

 

Max freezes. She looks over at Nathan and is met with glistening eyes, as if telling her to stay put. Her chest tightens. Why hasn't she done a rewind yet? She should-

 

A yelp leaves the Prescott heir as her photography professor lands a kick on his side.

 

"Nathan!" Despite the older man's instruction, her legs start moving on their own to her injured companion. Her attempt is thwarted, however, by a backhand slap to her face. Max falls on her bottom from the impact. The freckled girl cradles her cheek and stifles the tears welling in her eyes. She hears her name being called. She hears a thud followed by a whimper. Another thud. A moan.

 

When she comes to, she sees Nathan curled up on the floor, coughing, blood streaming from his lips and nose. The mass of fear in her chest is replaced by anger. She gets on her feet as fast as she can and begins to run towards Jefferson, tackle him down if she could. She halts her steps when he points the gun to the space between her eyes. Suddenly, all her boldness melts away and fear returns to its rightful place in her.

 

"I said," Jefferson growls, "don't move."

 

She wills her limbs to be still. But her hands won't obey her. And neither would her knees. The uncontrollable shaking makes her mentally swear. She swallows the lump in her throat, hoping that she is allowed that gesture at least. Jefferson tears his focus away from Max when he feels a hand wrap around his ankle.

 

"P-please," Nathan begs, "don't-"

 

Another blow lands on his face. Max draws as sharp breath. She looks away.

 

"Get your filthy paws off me, you worthless piece of shit," the older man hisses. "You think you're gonna get away with that stunt you pulled earlier?" He ends his rhetorical question with a kick to Nathan's bloody face.

 

"Stop! Please!" Max voice breaks.

 

Jefferson looks over at her with a maniacal grin, his grotesque features making it more frightening than it should. "Oh, don't worry, Max. Once I'm done with you, you'll follow your boyfriend to the grave." It makes her clench her jaw.

 

The wounded man reaches down to grab one of Nathan's feet. He pauses and wince. Max sees a smear of red beginning to spread beneath his shoulder blade. Her handiwork, no doubt.

 

"Stay put," the older man demands, "I'll be back in a minute." He seizes one of the boy's feet and starts dragging him out of the room as soon as he has established that no unwanted witnesses were in the corridor. The freckled brunette can faintly hear the sound of Nathan's body against the floor. She turns her head towards the windows, realizing just now that the rain has turned into a strong torrent, the strong wind making the walls almost shake. She emits a long breath, wishing her hesitation away, before leaving the room.

 

She swings her head from left to right, trying to figure out where Jefferson might have taken Nathan. She glances down and makes out a few black marks on the floor. She swipes it with her foot. Blood. She eyes the trail of blood towards the door to the staircase and runs for it.

 

She finds a trail of blood on the stairs headed up the rooftop. As she takes a few steps up, she hears a jangling of keys, confirming her suspicion. She quickens her pace. As soon as she pushes the door to the rooftop wide open, a burst of rainfall instantly soaks her. Max wipes her hair off her face and tries to shield her vision with an arm. She finds Jefferson by the ledge, putting down Nathan from his shoulder. It baffled her for a second, how this man could carry a 19-year old boy through a flight of stairs despite being wounded. Maybe this man was truly a monster.

 

He notices Max's presence as soon as he drops the young Prescott. "You're being very disobedient today, Maxine," he yells through howling winds. Max wastes no moment and sprints to his direction to take a hold of his armed limb. It throws him off-guard. Jefferson retaliates by pushing her head away, his nails digging into her jaw.  She holds on for dear life, praying that her surge of daring does not end up with a bullet in someone's body, particularly that of the boy sprawled almost unconsciously on the floor. When the photography teacher realizes that his efforts were in vain, he clutches on to the brunette's wet locks in an attempt to yank her away from him. Before he could do so, however, Max aims for his wrist and bites it with all her strength. He screams and releases the weapon. Max releases his arm as well. Something hard meets her cheek and she falls down on her bottom again. Her eyes sting from the impact.

 

Jefferson curses as he examines the bleeding mark on his hand. "Fucking bitch."

 

The soaked brunette scrambles to get on her feet. The blow to her face throbbed but it can wait, or at least she thinks it should. She flings herself at the Blackwell teacher, hoping that all of her weight would be enough to topple him over the ledge. He staggers at the ambush. _Not enough_ , she thought. She shoves him again, shoulder hitting ribs. Max thinks she succeeds when Jefferson suddenly finds his balance by holding on to the ledge itself. Panic invades the young girl's thoughts. She tries to push him again. It was a mistake. Jefferson's digits finds its way to her neck.

 

He stands upright and glares at the insolent girl. "You will pay for that, Max Caulfield." He scoffs and tosses her aside. She coughs and wipes the water from her face. Max sits up in time to witness Jefferson heave Nathan by the shoulders and hurl the unconscious boy off the rooftop of the Blackwell dormitory. Her breath gets stuck in her throat.

 

"Kill him," was the only thing that echoed in her head. Repeatedly.

 

She lifts herself off the ground, hands trembling with intent. But before she could launch herself towards the deranged man, a loud caw reaches her ears.

 

It makes her stop.

 

The emotional young girl does not know why but she feels as if someone has suddenly pulled her from the murkiness that she is drowning in. She gazes at her hands as an overwhelming calm and clarity washes over her. If it is adrenaline or her mind just finally snapping, she didn't quite care. She has overlooked one certain fact over the stretch of events that has occurred that evening.

 

"We have the advantage." Max shuts her eyes and emits a long, slow breath.

 

When Jefferson pulls her arm, it does not startle her. Instead, she drives her fist to his hideous nose. It makes him stumble back, the stream of blood oozing down to his chin satisfying the hell out of Max despite the pounding on her fist. She flips him off with one hand and begins a rewind with the other. _Jefferson will die tonight. No matter how many times it takes._

 

~~~

 

The sound of his own pulse echoing in his ears made him more nervous. He prays that it isn't loud enough to reach the  girl beside him. Her proposal to stay together for the night has knocked him off balance, rendered his thoughts incoherent. Hopefully, his ears didn't burn as red as his jacket when she said it. It most likely did though. It takes him a couple of seconds to quiet the storm that is his mind and finally lift his arm to turn the knob to his dormitory room. He stops when Max places a hand on his wrist. And Just like that, he feels the blood rushing to return to his cheeks. It is however replaced with shock when he turns his head to look at her and is met by a pale face, a set of weary eyes and a flow of black liquid beneath her nose.

 

He parts his lips to express his observation. He is not able to, however, when a set of soft fingers press lightly against his mouth. Perhaps on any other day, the gesture would have made him lose his breath and worsen the blush on his features. But tonight, it only made him take her wrist in his hand and stare at it with bewilderment, wondering how her touch could lack a certain amount of warmth.

 

"What's going on, Max?" the worried Prescott inquires in a hush tone.

 

The exhausted looking brunette starts walking back to the staircase and motions for him to follow. He sees her footsteps dragging, her pillow and blanket pulling her down as if it weighed a ton. What did this girl do this time to end up this frail? Did he fuck up something again? Did she had to go fix some mess he made?

 

Once they were outside the corridors and within the whitewashed walls that enclosed the staircase of the Blackwell dormitory, Max drops down on one of the steps and massages her temples. Nathan fishes for his pockets, hoping he's tucked a handkerchief somewhere. He finds one in his back pocket. The young Blackwell student had hoped it was dry but he had nothing better to offer at the moment so he folds it, crouches, and gently pats the weary girl's nose, lips, and chin. He has never seen a nosebleed this bad before.

 

"What happened?" he asks again. "Did you rewind?"

 

"A couple of times," Max replies, fingers still furiously making circles on her temples.

 

He looks at her thoughtfully and gulps, fearful of what a "couple of times"  mean, seeing the state that his companion is in.

 

"Why? What happened?"

 

It takes a moment for the brunette to answer. The silence turns into a test of patience for the young Prescott, him being short-tempered and all. He rises from his crouch and sits beside Max.

 

"He's in there. In your room. Jefferson."

 

 _Well, shit_. His eyes grow wide at the revelation. _Won't attack us in the middle of the school my ass._

 

"I told you we should've gone to my house!" He couldn't control his anger. They just got out of a crisis and here they are again, not even granted a moment of rest.

 

Max sighs. "Yeah, you're right. We should have." the lack of resistance and the listlessness in her voice makes him regret his temper yet again. The King of Blackwell was not used to being the genuinely right one in any argument. He was usually the "right one" only because of his status, money, and in various occasions, his fists. He decides not to linger on it.

 

"What do we do?" Nathan queries. "Should we, uh, call the cops?"

 

Max looks up. "Not yet."

 

Creases form on his brow. "What do you mean?" He hands her his stained handkerchief.

 

"We need to time it right." She takes it and wipes the space under her nose again.

 

"I don't understand."

 

"Trust me. I think I've got it this time." She takes another swipe at her nose. "Shit. It just won't stop."

 

It was dripping down her chin. The lines on Nathan's face deepen as he frowns.

 

"And I'm still seeing spots. Fuck."

 

"Max," Nathan starts, concern evident in his tone, "maybe it'd be better it we take a breather for the night. We can still drive back to my house and-"

 

"No." the girls snaps, her voice stern. "Nathan, we can't back down now. We're almost there. Trust me on this. We can do this. Please."

 

His heart breaks.

 

How many times must Max Caulfield beg him to trust her? How many times must Max perceive his need to keep her safe an indication of his lack of confidence in her? How many times must they go through these traumatizing incidents together? When the fuck will this ever end? 

 

Her pleading finally breaks the thing that has been keeping him from being honest with her. He braces himself.

 

"Max, after what you went through for me-" he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear- "how the fuck am I not gonna trust you?"

 

She smiles but only until she hears the word "but".

 

"You're tired and I-" he gulps- "don't want you to get hurt." Uttering each word felt like overcoming Mt. Everest to the flustered boy.

 

This time, the smile that blooms on Max's face does not wane.

 

"This is the first time you said that."

 

One of Nathan's eyebrow shoots up.

 

"I've been rewinding a lot," Max affirms. "But this is the first time you said that."

 

He turns red and coughs.

 

"Maybe it's a sign that we'll get him this time." Her smile grows wider.

 

It makes him melt. The young boy tries his hardest not to glance at her neck. Or her cheeks. Or her soft, pink lips.  He clears his throat before giving a reply.

 

"I'd rather you be safe for now"-he takes one of her hands-" but if you wanna go out there and fuck somebody up tonight, then I'm with you."

 

Her hand shifts within his grasp and he feels her fingers intertwine with his. He purses his lip, determined not to let a grin escape. He fails when Max cups his cheek to face him and presses her lips against his.

 

When she pulls away, he thinks his mind and body have decided to stab him in the back and abandon all proper bodily functions. There is nothing in his ears but the sound of his unsteady heartbeat. Not even the sound of pouring rain and the cracking of thunder is registering in his system right now. He swallows and wills himself to expel the breath that is lodged in his throat. He unwittingly stares at her, believing that he would just burst if he does not return to the comfort of those lips.

 

He tugs a bit on their joined hands and leans closer, her anticipating eyes looking back at him. He lands a peck on her mouth. It curves into a smile. He lands another. And then another.  And then another. Her smile turns into weak giggles and their hands break to wrap each other in a tight embrace.

 

"Max, can't we just" - he sniffs- "leave? Can't we just, I don't know, run away? Let them do whatever the hell they want with Arcadia Bay."

 

She chuckles. "You saw what they did to Mr. Jefferson."

 

He breaks the hug and squints at her. "That's not funny."

 

She bites her lip to stifle her laugh. Max extends her arms and places them on his back, pulling him closer. He doesn't resist and rests his head on her shoulder, cheek touching cheek.

 

"We're almost there," the brunette whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We're almost there," the author whispers.
> 
> this was supposed to be the last one before an epilogue but it got too long so I had to divide it. And when I did, I added some fluff because why not and now it's longer than it supposed to be haha oh well


	14. Results

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! sorry for the wait. Enjoy the last chapter before the epilogue!

She winced at every blow that landed on him. A kick to his gut. Another to his nose. Another powerful one to his chest. It didn't help that she had full view of his scrunched face. He had tried so hard to conceal the pain, biting his lips so hard like it was the key to staying alive. But despite his tremendous effort, a grunt or a squeal would escape every now and then. It was all Max could do to not run to him and enclose him within her arms, assure him that it was going to be alright.

 

Nathan had paled earlier when she explained the plan. _Of course he would_ , the brunette concluded, who _wouldn't when they're about to get clobbered by a fucking madman_. She was proven wrong when the perturbed boy expressed his concern for her wellbeing instead of his. It rendered her speechless for a moment, her brows knitting as she tried to reconcile the image of this selfless Nathan in front of her and with that of the notorious school bully she's always known. Of course, the recent development between their relationship was not to be dismissed. That could be the reason why. But a person can't change that fast, can they? This is a life-threatening situation. She would've understand if he thought of himself first.

 

A certain phone call flashes through her mind.

 

She casts her eyes downward and sighs quietly, disappointment settling in her. She was no better than the people who knew jack shit about Nathan Prescott. After all they've been through, how dare a part of her still cling on to that image of the King of Blackwell. He has been nothing but selfless throughout this whole ordeal. Nathan did not transform from bad to good. This was not a change of heart.  This is how he always has been. And it pained her that the people who surrounded him made sure that that quality of his never saw the light.

 

She squeezes his shoulder. "I'll be alright." His expression doesn't improve but he nods anyway.

 

Another squeal reaches her ears.

 

“Get your filthy paws off me, you worthless piece of shit. You think you’re gonna get away with that stunt you pulled earlier?"

 

After a particular strong kick to the stomach, Nathan finally stops moving. Jefferson extends his hand to Nathan's foot and starts dragging him out of the room. He looks over his shoulder and casts Max an icy glare before warning her to not make a move. She does not respond. He walks out of the door, the seemingly unconscious teenager in his grasp, and makes his way to the rooftop. When Max was confident that her professor was no longer within earshot, she pulls a phone out of her back pocket and dials a number.

 

~~~

 

The wind and rain was as merciless as the past few rewinds. The door slams at the opposite side of the wall as soon as she pushes it open. It catches the attention of the soaked man who has just dropped Nathan on the ground. He turns to face her, gun nowhere in sight.

 

"Max, I told you to stay where you are, didn't I?" He removes his glasses, folds it neatly, and tucks it away in his pocket.

 

She slides her eyes to Nathan, hoping he didn't break too many ribs this time. And as if on queue, lightning flashes against the sky. Max takes the distraction as an opportunity to launch herself towards the older man. The tackle catches him off guard. It makes him stagger but not enough for him to topple backwards. He places a foot behind him to steady himself. Max steps back as well and keeps a safe distance. She spies his right hand reaching to his back to draw something. It was a bit too early for his weapon to make an appearance. So when Nathan's fist rams into his jaw, Max does not bat an eyelash.

 

Jefferson collapses in the opposite direction, the stitches on his cheek bursting from the impact. Nathan flinches a bit himself. His face contorts as his hand rests on an area beneath his chest. He looks at Max's direction and she returns it with an approving nod, eyes not devoid of unease for the boy's condition.

 

The man on the ground coughs and spits blood. He attempts to pull himself up but was thwarted by another fist to his face. The bruised and bloodied Prescott is above him, hurling punch after punch with a strength akin to a man desperate for life. He struggled against the weight of him on his body, the cuts and bullet in his body making it ten times more difficult. He could only raise his arms in defense, protecting his head as much as possible. When Nathan winces for a split second, the photographer shoots his hands up and lands a blow on his chin. The pause from the hit allows him to take a hold of younger man's neck.

 

Nathan digs his nails into the arms of his assailant. When it does not seem to do anything but increase  the pressure on his neck, he reaches down for Jefferson's face. It proved to be a challenge, what with Jefferson's arms being longer than his. But his fingers find it and he begins to slap, and scratch and hit at whatever skin he manages to reach. He jabs an eye and it grants him release from the professor's powerful grip. The young adolescent gasps, his chest determined to fill itself with air it has been deprived of. He isn't able to, however, when the older man swings the back of his left arm to Nathan's right cheek. The force throws him off to one side. Nathan curls up on the ground as he wheezed and cradled the parts of him that throbbed. Jefferson curls up himself and nurses his injured eye.

 

Despite herself, Max couldn't help but suffocate from agitation as she witness the brawl before her. It shouldn't frighten her, really. She has been over this for what feels like a hundred times. And yet the sound of cracking bones, flesh hitting flesh, made her skin crawl over and over again. She wanted this to be over. This had to be the last run-through of this scenario. It has to be.

 

She swings the door behind her open, ears waiting for the echoing of footsteps. The brunette screams for help.

 

"We're up here!"

 

Her plea is rewarded by the sound of a hurried pace. She keeps the door wide open. Max turns her head back to the two other people on the rooftop. They are both on their feet, a few meters apart. One had their hands raised and one was pointing a black pistol at the other. The tug at her chest demanded that she intervened. _Keep him safe. Don't let him die. Again_. She grits her teeth, impatient for the arrival of their liberators. Or was it their pawns?

 

Two uniformed officers barge into the wide open space of Blackwell's dormitory roof top. As soon as the presence of an armed man registers, they draw their guns from its holsters and point it to his direction.

 

Their voice is stern as they demanded that he released the weapon. He freezes, his eyes as round as saucers. The image of her cornered professor brought her delight. She looks over at Nathan and sends him a hopeful glance. She wished he had returned one as well, but his lips is pursed and his eyes darted between her and Jefferson. The battle isn't over yet. But Max intends to end it. And so she takes a step forward.

 

Suddenly, all eyes are on her. The officers calls out to her, requests that she stays back. One of them tries to pull her by the shoulder. She evades it and takes another step forward. She doesn't remove her gaze from Jefferson. Her actions are visibly unsettling him. It should.

 

A debate was taking place in his head, the lines on his face confirming it. Max hoped, prayed, wished he'd take the bait, that he'd pursue the action that she was vying for since the past couple rewinds. All other actions had led to failure. She had done all the right things now. And so far, he had behaved as expected. Please don't disappoint her now.

 

Jefferson removes his aim from Nathan and points it at her.

 

Max almost smiles.

 

The officers go frantic, ordering none of them to move. Nathan makes his way quietly over to the officers, careful not to rouse any attention.

 

"It's over," she yells, feet planted on her spot across Jefferson.

 

She spies the slight quiver in his shoulders. Was it because of the cold? Or was he actually afraid for once? The fucker should be.

 

"Everyone is going to know the truth about you." She squints her eyes at him. "I'll make sure they know about the kind of monster that you truly are."

 

The muscles on his face grow tense. He is blinking, attention shifting between her and the cops behind her.

 

"You're not an artist!" Max laughs mockingly." You can't capture anyone's beauty. You're just a sick, sad, old man."

 

His mouth twitches but he doesn't reply.

 

Max glances subtly to her left and right. She can see the two officers closing on them from both sides. Good. None of them are behind her. And although, she can't see him, she was confident that Nathan wasn't either. She made sure of that.

 

He is carefully eyeing them as the men drew closer. His grip on his pistol loosens a bit. There is a drop in his shoulders and a calculating look on his face that suggested he was going to give himself up. A man in his right senses would have. A man who was not a prey of Arcadia Bay's guardians would have been allowed to. 

 

"You are nothing but a washed-up photographer who wants to live his glory days in a fucking basement, calling his fetish 'art'." Max punctuates it with a scoff.

 

The tension on his shoulders return. He returns her quip with a glare.

 

The uniformed men take another step towards him.

 

A caw echoes.

 

"You're trash. Your work is trash. "

 

 His jaws clench.

 

"Put the gun down, sir."

 

Lightning flashes. A boom of thunder follows.

 

Max laughs.

 

The men bark orders. One of them repeatedly radios for back-up.

 

Jefferson's peripherals dart back and forth between the people surrounding him, the crease between his eyebrows grows deeper. He licks his lips and swallows.

 

She is still howling from laughter.

 

A raven lands on the floor by her side.

 

He is paralyzed.

 

"Fuck, you're so full of yourself. You think you're a genius."

 

Another lands somewhere behind her.

 

His hands are shaking. His breathing is shallow.

 

A raven perches on her shoulder.

 

"Eat shit and die, Mark."

 

A squawk rips through the air.

 

He pulls the trigger.

 

The officers fire their weapons.

 

An outburst of caws surround them.

 

Nathan waits for a rewind but it does not happen.

 


	15. Epilogue

He walks out of the office and makes his way to the parking lot, each stride wider than the last.  His shame at his latest outburst wouldn't let him pause for anybody. No greeting, no eye contact. His session today didn't fare well. And neither did the last one. And the last one before that. And the last one before that. He gritted his teeth as he turns the key and slams his fist on the window of his pick-up truck before pulling the door open.

 

He hated it. Not the therapies itself, oh no, he was determined to do it. He hated himself for letting his temper climb way too quickly. He wanted to get fixed as soon as possible. But how was he supposed to get better if all he could so was run his mouth until all the air in the room has been consumed? When did he get this angry?

 

Dr. Jacoby would have him believe otherwise. That it was great progress that he actually stays for a whole hour. That being able to speak freely in front of him is good. That slowly but surely, they will be able to get where they want him to be. _Bullshit_ , the young boy thought. It's been months. Months! Just fix him already!

 

The engine roared as he turns the ignition on. But he doesn’t step on the pedal just yet. He sighs as he leans back on his seat, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. _This was punishment_ , he believed. He had lied, covered his tracks. If Lady Justice had her way, he’d be behind bars right now or locked away in some mental institution. Either way, he wouldn’t be walking free in the streets of Arcadia Bay. Instead, here he is, trying to slowly piece himself back together with the shards he was left with after the whole event. He doesn't deserve to be this lucky.

 

The news of the murderous photography professor had spread like wildfire in Arcadia Bay. It was the talk of the town for weeks. Local TV station personnel would swarm the school grounds, pester staff and students for a story, a clue, an overlooked fact that could be weaved nicely into the narrative. Principal Wells had no choice but to tighten the security at Blackwell Academy for a couple of weeks.

 

He was not exempted from the harassment, himself. In fact, you could say he was the most exposed of them all. Criticisms have been hurled at him from all directions for his inability to keep the school safe by making sure hired staff were at least decent human beings. Wasn’t that one of the basic things you do as the leading authority figure of a prestigious academy, they said. Groups of furious parents had flocked his office, accusing him, giving him a piece of their mind, questioning the safety of their children within the walls of this institution. Some had even go far as to withdraw their sons and daughters to the dismay of the frantic principal. His bottles of liquor had never been of great service to him before now.

 

The media had painted well a scenario of what happened that night. A student had called 911 to report of an assault happening at the rooftop of the Blackwell dormitory. Police officers arrived at the scene confirming the report, an armed man threatening a young student, also known as Nathan Prescott, son of Arcadia Bay's business tycoon, Sean Prescott. According to the police report, the perpetrator was a well-known photographer and a professor at Blackwell. He had fired his gun at the Max Caulfield, the person who had called in the emergency, hence, prompting the officers to shoot back. The assailant was dead on the spot.

 

As for the motive of the crime, the Prescotts had held a press conference to clear things up. Apparently, Nathan had been harassed by Mark Jefferson ever since he arrived at Arcadia Bay. Not only was the young Prescott heir capable of providing him the wealth he needed, but he was an easy target as well. His mental health was nowhere near stable and a greedy, manipulative man had thought to take advantage of this fact. The Prescott’s family lawyer had spoken these words so eloquently that he had managed to change the people’s minds about the spoiled, rich brat that is Nathan Prescott. He had garnered the sympathy of the majority of the townsfolk.

 

He feels a pressure on his throat as he thought of it, people no longer hating him. And he couldn’t say for sure which was better, eyes filled with disgust or eyes filled with pity. Even Victoria couldn’t help but act even more motherly towards him whenever they meet. She had felt remorse for not knowing what kind of man Jefferson truly was. He did his best to console her, convincing her that there was no way for her to have known and that he was sorry for hiding it from her. She returned a weak smile but Nathan knew she was going to feel guilty about it for god knows how long.

 

He makes a turn to the right and Blackwell appears in his view, students lazing about, security marching on the sidewalk, people waiting by the bus stop. It seemed that the frenzy was finally dying down and everything was settling back to normal. It was a relief to finally be able to walk anywhere without people having to pop out of nowhere and squeeze whatever they can squeeze out of you.

 

Nathan drives to the curb and moves the shift-stick to park. He casts his vision at the group of people by the bus stop, searching for a face. He doesn’t see her. He pulls his phone from one his pockets. But before he could search for her name in his phonebook, the door to the passenger’s seat snaps open. She pulls the door wide open and welcomes herself in with a swift motion. He puts his truck out of park and drives out of the curb as soon as he hears the clicking of a buckled seatbelt.

 

“How was it?”

 

He groans.

 

“Don’t worry. It’s gonna get better.”

 

He groans again. “You keep saying that.”

 

“Because it’s true.”

 

“You say that one more time-”

 

“It’s gonna get better. It’s gonna get better. It’s gonna get better!”

 

His hand attacks her face, palm just rubbing against her facial features in an effort to shut her up. She giggles, shakes her head and swats his hand off.

 

“Hey! Eyes on the road!” the freckled brunette exclaimed.

 

~~~

 

The golden and purple hues that washed the sky that afternoon rendered Max paralyzed for a couple of seconds. It was one of the most beautiful mesh of colours she had ever had the privilege of witnessing. To be bestowed an image of such beauty on a day like this had humbled her. Or perhaps it was a reward, a gesture of approval, of what Nathan and she were trying to accomplish. She prayed that it was so as her conscience hadn’t been very kind to her lately.

 

She pulls her gaze and focused it on the small pit on the ground they have dug up earlier. _Too deep_ , she thought. There was no need for it to be but Nathan insisted on working on it further. When she couldn’t talk him out of it, she dropped the shovel and watched him as he continued his work. She even kicked some dirt off the edge just to spite him. He had glared at her for her atrocity and she had returned it with a teasing glare of her own, eyes round and head tilted.

 

She looks back at the red barn behind her, curious as to why he wasn’t back yet. It shouldn’t take this long to retrieve the items. She trots through the path leading to the bunker, hoping nothing serious had hindered Nathan’s task.

 

Max finds him in front of the binders, frozen on the spot, staring at one particular binder in his hands. She stands still at the entrance to the room, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. When he doesn’t, she tiptoes to him and taps him softly on the shoulder. He jolts, snaps his neck at her with crazed eyes. As soon as he realizes who it was, he deflates and looks away from her, ashamed. Her eyes find the image that had anchored his attention. Rachel Amber and Nathan Prescott, half-consciously laying side by side at what Max presumes is the junkyard, limbs angled unnaturally. Something shrivels in her chest.

 

She lift her eyes to Nathan. His lips is pursed and his jaw is tense, his eyes shut tight. She kneads his shoulder. _It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay_. His shoulders begin to tremble. Max’s hand travels to his back and she rubs circles frantically, determined to ease him out of the impending state of instability. She doesn’t succeed, evident in the streams pouring down his cheeks. She takes the binder out of his hands, places it on the desk, and wraps him within her arms, her own eyes starting to water. _Please let him be okay. Please let us be okay._

 

Almost a quarter of an hour had passed when they’ve finally emptied the binders. It took most of Max and Nathan’s energy to pull the photos out one by one from it’s enclosure, dazed eyes and bound limbs pushing the both of them to the edge. At one point, Max had decided to squint her eyes so that it would only register blurry blobs of black and white.

 

They carried the stacks to behind the barn where their pit was located and dumped the images in the hole. Max retrieves one photo from the pile and withdraws a lighter from one of her pockets. She steadies the lighter beneath the photo of a young woman lying on a white floor, hands tucked away at her back, a cross pendant necklace dangling from her neck. The image makes her pause and she shuts her eyes for a moment. She takes a deep breath and flicks the lighter, a small orange tongue of flame materializing out of the plastic object. The flames dance from the soft breeze before meeting the corner of the print. Max lets it spread before returning it to the ground, alongside all the other images.

 

The smoke began to thicken as the fire made it’s way through each photo. She glances over at Nathan, looking for clue as to what was the correct sentiment to have right now, but his face was blank. His eyes are red and empty as it stared at the burning pit and his lips a straight line. It disappointed her, how it seemed that she was alone in her anxiety at the moment. She feels a pressure on her hand, and for a second, she was taken aback by the sudden gesture. She squeezes his hand back, choking down the mass of emotion building up in her.

 

Max Caulfield believes that she will always live with a never ending debate in her head as to whether their decision to keep the truth unknown is right or wrong. It will haunt her in her sleep. It will stare back at her in the mirror. It will devour her every waking minute. But unlike the past timelines, this particular timeline had given her somewhat of a consolation. A companion. Someone other than herself who had witnessed the truth and is assigned the same burden. And if there is one thing that she was certain of, it is that the secret that once pushed her to end herself one timeline ago was now a secret that will bind the both of them together for the rest of their lives. She was no longer lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who stuck with me until the end, THANK YOU! Thank you so much for your kudos, kind comments, and patience as I learned how to do this thing called writing fanfics. I hope that this journey had made you feel all sort of things and I hope this ending makes going through 14 chapters all worth it haha!
> 
> If you would like to see some other caulscott content, you can check out my one-shots here:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850679/chapters/31857957
> 
> (you can make requests!)
> 
> and you can check out my art blog here:
> 
> http://caulscott-cuddles.tumblr.com/
> 
> And if you love my work and would like to support me, I've got a Ko-fi account here:
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/sheidraws
> 
> Any amount is much appreciated! And if you donate at least 3 cups, I can make you a sketch of your request!
> 
> Again, THANK YOU SO MUCH! Also, if you have any critiques on my written work, I'd love to hear them! Gotta improve them writing skills


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